


Wayward Sons

by nolandsman



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Violence, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 157,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6454165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolandsman/pseuds/nolandsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lloyd's father had always been distant. But when he is suddenly attacked and abducted, Lloyd must navigate the twisted and often cruel world on his own if he ever wants to see him again. A retelling of the events of Tales of Symphonia if Lloyd were raised by Kratos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kratos

**Author's Note:**

> This story is old. It’s melodramatic. It’s kinda fucked up. It’s in dire need of retrofitting. So that’s what I’m doing (scratch that, trying to do) at this point—editing, splicing, recalibrating, cutting, hacking, refilling, stitching, gluing, polishing. Hopefully the monster that emerges from this endeavor will resemble the work as it used to be—with all the drama and melancholy of a fresh wound—but hopefully, this time around, it won’t be nearly as… well, bad.
> 
> It's a hard thing to try to preserve a story that was written by an angstier version of yourself—you want to keep the raw honesty of your mindless howling, dour emoting, but try to polish it into something (dare I say it) presentable.
> 
> I hope I don't regret this. Here's a story.

_*_

_For R—,_

_To whom I wanted to show this, but who died before I could. You're an angel too cool for Cruxis. Rest in peace while you can, because when I catch up to you, there will be only partying._

*

Lloyd had a father who never slept. At least, not that he'd seen. Every night, at some inn or another, he'd watch his father stare out the window for hours, until sleep took him, and when morning came, the ever-vigilant man would shake him awake. Lloyd was hard-pressed to recall a day in his childhood that  _didn't_  begin with his father, eternally frowning and sleepless, prodding his shoulder at the break of dawn. He had long since given up even trying to find out what his father did while he slept. By the time he was sent away to school, he had successfully convinced himself he didn't care.

His school was a boys' academy in Palmacosta, presumably for gifted children, though Lloyd's mere presence at the institution likely sabotaged that assumption. He was decidedly ungifted—so much so that at seventeen he still found himself struggling with concepts the elementary-aged boys had cruised through like smooth water. His performance was so spectacularly poor he wasn't even an object of derision to the other students—only of eternal fascination. "It's because you're an anomaly," Genis had told him, without a hint of malice. "You fail so hard it almost counts as success."

Lloyd figured that his dad must've paid a boatload in order to keep a dope like him enrolled at the Palmacosta Academy. He was fairly sure Kratos only chose this particular school because of its strict and safe dormitories, so he could easily shrug his son off for nine months of the year. After all, he apparently had more important things to do. Things he would constantly refuse to divulge.

Lloyd assumed this summer would be like the rest—his father would come pick him up, drag him halfway around the continent while periodically abandoning him at an inn in some backwoods hick town, only to show up days later with no explanation as to where he went and why. Lloyd could think of plenty of better ways to spend his time, but at least it beat school.

He sat on the marble steps of the academy, wiggling his toes, until his only friend squeaked through the front doors and sat down beside him, dropping his oversized backpack on the steps.

"Hey, Lloyd." Genis was the only one that called him by his real name. He'd had to enroll in the academy under a false one, for "safety reasons," according to his father, who then of course failed to disclose what those reasons were. Lloyd couldn't remember what he told Genis at the time of their meeting—whether it was a middle name, nickname, or something—all he remembered was that he was lonely enough to risk his safety to have someone call him by his real name.

"Hey, Genis," he said. "Isn't your sister coming to pick you up?"

"Nah. She has this thing with boats—she makes me catch a ship all the way back to Iselia every summer. I don't see why I just can't stay there for the school year. I mean, she's the teacher, she could make the curriculum as hard as she wanted." He took his omnipresent kendama from his pocket and began to fool around with it.

"My dad has dragged me to some backwater holes," Lloyd said, "and believe me, you fit in a lot better here. You'd hate living in the boonies."

Genis was far too intelligent to survive in some of the small villages Lloyd had visited. The slow, aimless days, the pervasive illiteracy, the lack of stimulation would drive the kid insane. Genis was rigid, calculating, prone to destructive boredom if he did not have something to occupy his mind at all hours of all days. Besides, the kid was an elf, and you never knew what rural towns had misconceived discrimination laws regarding other races.

Lloyd didn't know why Genis had taken a liking to him—it seemed like he would prefer cleverer company. He didn't admire Lloyd's spectacular incompetence at a distance, like the other boys, but spent the time and energy on building an actual friendship. Perhaps it was because Lloyd was the only other boy at the school who didn't pick on him. Genis had a reputation for his academic ruthlessness—he was a threat, a curve-ruiner, a destroyer of grades, and for any boy with his eyes set on the rank of top-of-the-class, an immovable obstacle. But Genis' prowess couldn't possibly make Lloyd's grades any lower.  _Someone's got to be at the bottom of the curve,_ Lloyd told himself often,  _otherwise there wouldn't be a top._

Genis tucked away his kendama, straightened his uniform and hoisted his pack. "I don't think Iselia is that bad. The Chosen lives there, and she's got a lot to teach me about Martel."

"I thought you aced your religious studies."

Genis' face contorted into something between a smile and a grimace. "Well, what the Chosen says and what the priests say are sometimes… different." He paused, adjusting his pack. "When will your dad get here?" he asked.

Lloyd shrugged.

"Well, my boat's leaving in half an hour. Be careful this summer. I heard the Desian quota's not met for the season, so they'll be picking up anyone they can. So don't do anything stupid. Or dangerous. I suppose that's like asking water to not be wet."

Lloyd smiled. "You be careful, too."

He watched Genis disappear into the Palmacostan bustle, then lay back on the steps and counted the clouds. Other students filed out, carrying suitcases, bags, and books for summer studying. Each stepped past Lloyd without noticing him, and they disappeared into their respective alleyways, harbors and houses. Lloyd stared at the sky until the sun touched the lower ramparts of the governor-general's mansion at the other end of the square. Perhaps he'd have to stay here tonight, until his father would suddenly remember he had a son waiting in Palmacosta.

Lloyd was meticulously deciding what he'd order for dinner that night at the inn when he felt himself being hoisted from the academy's front steps. It took him a moment to realize that his dad was there, dragging him across the square like they had someplace important to be.

"I'm glad you're safe," was all his father said between the academy doors and the city's gate.

"I don't know why I wouldn't be," Lloyd answered, but got no reply.

At the city's entrance, his father presented him with a traveling cloak, weathered and hooded, and ordered him to make sure his head was covered. "So, which rural ditch are we going to for this year's holiday?" Lloyd asked. "Hima? Umacy? A human ranch? A—oh, hey boy! Who's a good boy?" Noishe, the family dog, greeted them a few yards from the gate. His father's arrival inevitably heralded the arrival of Noishe, which offset some of Lloyd's gloom. He wasn't sure he could survive his dad without the dog present.

Lloyd's previous question was, as usual, ignored. "How's your friend? Jean?"

"Genis. He's fine. He went back to his village. Did you know the Chosen lives there?"

"Humph." His father did not seem interested in the conversation, though he never seemed interested in any conversation.

They walked a few miles in complete silence. Every so often Lloyd would turn around to see the city shrinking into the horizon, and wondered if he would make it back for the next school year. "So, where are we going?" he said. "Or am I not allowed to ask."

His father remained silent for a few moments, staring at the road ahead. "We're going to Tethe'alla."

"What? All right!  _Finally_!" Lloyd had heard stories about the fabled world of prosperity, all from his dad, but he had been strictly forbidden to speak about it to anyone, even Genis. So the land of Tethe'alla built up inside him like any good secret would—he had gone there thousands of times in his head, visited its cities and people, gone on fantastical adventures and always returned some sort of hero. It was the kind of fantasy that kept his eyes locked to the window in class, staring at the afternoon moon crawling above the harbor—the kind of fantasy that made his teachers slam books on desks, screech chalk on the board, and on one occasion, hurl an abacus at his head to regain his attention.

"Quick!" Kratos hissed, dragging Lloyd again into the present, erasing his reminiscent smile. For a split second he thought his buzzkill dad was just trying to get him to curb his enthusiasm, but when he found himself being hauled to the side of the road into the bushes, he knew it was something a little more serious. Noishe crouched in the undergrowth beside them, and they watched as three figures approached from the east. Lloyd could recognize their helmets as Desian from miles away.

He tried not to breathe and hoped they hadn't been spotted. But the trio slowed, looking around the area to where they no doubt saw some travelers hurl themselves into the bushes, and one of the helmets shouted at them to come out.

"Don't say anything," Lloyd's father told him as they slowly emerged from their hiding place.

"Shouldn't you folks be back in Palmacosta?" one of the armored men asked. Lloyd could not see their faces fully under their shadowy helmets, but he could easily spy their intolerable smirks.

"Maybe they escaped from the ranch," another suggested, playing with the tip of his whip.

"They do seem to be itching to get there."

"We'd be no good," Lloyd heard his father say in a heavily accented drone. "My nephew there's got a blood disease, and I have a bad back. We'd be no good. No good."

"Then perhaps you'd like to compensate us for our effort. We have a long way to go until Palmacosta."

Lloyd screamed inwardly. He knew his father could take them out, all three, effortlessly. So why wasn't he...

His dad reached into his pack and pulled out a small bag of money. Wordlessly he handed it over, and Lloyd bit his lip so hard he was sure it bled. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, and his face burned in embarrassment. Of all the bullies to suck up to, it had to be these guys.

The first Desian juggled the bag and frowned. "You know, you don't look like you have that bad of a back. It looks to me like it works just fine."

Another sack of money, larger this time, was produced from a hidden pocket and handed over. "You drive a steep bargain," the Desian said, "but I accept. Next time I won't be so generous."

The three soldiers continued in the direction of the city, but not before one of them decided to give Lloyd a good kick in the back. He flew into the dirt, winded, and scrambled upward, fists ready, only to have his father grab him and hold him back. His antagonists chuckled. "Better keep your halfwit in check, old man," one of them called before all three slipped around the bend.

When Lloyd's breathing slowed and his fists loosened, his father let him go. "Leave them," he commanded, and Lloyd had no choice but to follow him and Noishe down the road. "Do you have any money?"

"Yeah." Lloyd had saved up a little from doing manual labor at the academy—helping arrange bookshelves, and carry the frozen lunchmeat to the cellar. He had planned to get himself a glorious dinner at the Palmacosta inn, but it looked like he'd have to forfeit his earnings so they could stay at the House of Salvation that night.

"Good. Keep it hidden."

Lloyd hadn't expected an apology, but part of him wished he'd got one. Not just for asking for Lloyd's money—he could've forgiven his father for that. What he couldn't forgive was the fact that he could've whipped those Desians, easily, and yet he still chose to throw away his dignity, not to mention his money. Lloyd didn't understand how he could muster the shamelessness to offer a bribe, but not the humility to apologize to his own son for doing so.

*

The House of Salvation was grungy, unkempt, and offered very little when it came to meals. Watery soup and hard bread were the only items on the menu, but Lloyd wasn't picky. Even the greasy leftovers at the Palmacosta academy's cafeteria, too much for some of the more delicate boys, never fazed him. He dragged his bread through the soup, trying to soak some of the staleness out of it, and nearly cracked his teeth biting into it. But it filled his stomach like anything else.

His father, as usual, barely ate. He'd swirl his soup, making a show of eating, but Lloyd knew better. He didn't know how the man survived. "You gonna finish that?" he asked, and smiled when the nearly untouched meal was pushed to his side of the decrepit table. When Lloyd was finished eating for the both of them, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "So, how do we even get there?"

They both knew where he was talking about. His father's face darkened, as if he were deeply contemplating whether he should answer or not. It almost surprised Lloyd when his father actually gave him an explanation—or something that resembled one. "There are several ways. One of them is impossible. One is entirely dependent on the season and the stars. And the third will be open very soon. For now, we're going to Hima."

Lloyd didn't hate Hima, but it wasn't a big hit with him either. It was still nearly on the other side of the continent, though, and when they rose early the next morning to begin the long trek, Lloyd found himself in a sour mood just thinking about it. The first few days of a summer journey were always hard on him—he didn't move around much at the academy, and any muscle he'd gained from the previous summer was lost by the first heavy rains. He walked in aching silence until Hakenosia Peak, where he slid, exhausted, to the ground outside the gatekeeper's hut. His father slipped into the building to negotiate some passes for them. Lloyd figured he was probably beating the avaricious old gatekeeper to a pulp—or at least threatening to. Apparently when it came to greedy business owners, Kratos would mete out some justice, but when it came to real criminals, he would just suck up and let them walk all over him.

The embarrassing memory of the three Desians made Lloyd grit his teeth and only worsened his mood. When his father emerged from the hut, passes in hand, a poisonous feeling welled up inside him. Noishe seemed to sense it too, and pushed his nose between Lloyd's arm and torso, forcing his hand to cup the dog's massive ear.  _Calm down,_ the little ear twitched.  _There are better things to think about._ He stroked it for a few seconds, thankful that he had someone as reasonable as Noishe around. Sometimes, the dog was the only person around him who made any damn sense.

*

It got dark before they reached the peak, so they trudged a little off the path and started a fire. Kratos set up the cooking pot and started some mystery meat stew, and Lloyd found some long sticks for sword practice. When he brought them to his father, they were rejected. He brought six more before the pair he presented were finally approved. Kratos stood, adjusting his stance in silence, gripping the stick as skillfully as he had his true blade.

"Why don't you let me use a real sword?" Lloyd asked. When Kratos came at him, it was all he could do to parry. He stumbled back, nearly tripping on a log, but regained himself.

"Because you're not ready to have one," Kratos said.

Every year, Lloyd practiced—the Academy offered fencing classes as a physical education option, and it was the only class in which he excelled. Many of the boys there were quite skilled, since they had rich fathers who insisted on their sons being able to use the decorative swords they were set to inherit. Those boys fenced to pursue the perception of status. But Lloyd fenced for the wonderful feeling of knocking any one of those little jerks to the ground.

"The Academy at least lets me use practice swords. Not just some dumb sticks."

Kratos effortlessly slid past his strike. No matter how many snotty classmates Lloyd beat, no matter how many praises he'd accumulated from the instructors, he never came close to matching his father. Every time he thought he'd improved, Kratos would put him back in his place. It was downright mean.

"You need to learn that you can fight with anything," his father said, noting his son's mounting frustration. He swiped aside a particularly heavy blow and struck Lloyd on the thigh. "It'll keep you a lot safer when you don't have a weapon."

"The only reason I don't have a weapon is because you don't let me carry one! You never even use yours!"  _So how are you so goddamn good with it?_ he wanted to shout, but just panted as he parried a series of skilled strikes from his father. It didn't make any sense to him—Kratos was almost supernaturally adept. He was sure no one could beat him, if only the stubborn bastard would actually  _fight_ every once in a while. Lloyd found himself gritting his teeth in frustration, and anger rippled through him as he swung. Kratos easily evaded the blow, redirecting his impotent violence with something of a self-satisfied smile. The next time Lloyd struck, he meant it. "Do you  _like_  it when we get robbed?" His stick met Kratos' like a thunderclap. "Do you  _like_  it when we get kicked around and have to hide?" He swung again, hard enough that his father's parry send a painful shudder up his arm. "I know you can defend yourself—I can too, but you're too much of a low-down coward to fight!" Lloyd backed off, panting, knowing there was only one blow he could successfully land on his father. "Is that how Mom died? You couldn't fight for her?"

Before he could realize what he'd done, his feet were knocked from under him. With a disheartening crack, he felt the stick in his hand shatter. The wood flew from his grasp as the ground hit his back, winding him. His left eye stung like all hell, and before he could raise his arms to defend himself he felt a fist strike his opposite cheek. Then, as quickly as he attacked, his father retreated, leaving Lloyd to sputter and cough in the dirt. Lloyd watched him go, slinking off into the shadows beyond the fire without saying a word.

Well, that sparring match had been half a success. He might never be able to beat his father, but there was little Kratos could do to parry words like that. He curled on his side and stared at the flames, as Noishe crawled up beside him and burrowed his head into Lloyd's limp hand. After a few minutes of petting, when he felt a little better, he sat up. Ashamed but too hungry to pass it up, he reached out to the dirt-covered soup, removed it from the fire, and spooned it into his sore mouth. He ignored the irony taste of what may have been blood, and just told himself to be grateful he didn't have to chew. Each swallow hurt like a new bruise, and he felt himself reaching up to touch his swollen cheek or his split eyebrow every so often, wiping away whatever blood trickled into his eye.

By the time he had eaten his fill, his father returned, green leaves scrunched in his hand. He sat opposite Lloyd, never offering a word, and poured water into the small kettle he usually used for coffee. He lay what he had collected by the fire: three varieties of leaves, a dark flower, a small nut, a strip of thin bark. Lloyd watched him put the kettle on the fire, then carefully peel the leaves from their stems, crack open the nut, and pull the orange pollen from the flower's stamen. When the water began to boil, in went the leaves, the bark, then after a few minutes, the pollen and granular contents of the nut. Then he pulled out a small, folded cloth from his pack and dropped it in the pot. After a few minutes, he removed the kettle from the fire and let it cool.

Noishe, now convinced the skirmish was safely over, curled by the fire and began to twitch, dreaming. Lloyd coughed into his hand as his father removed the cloth from the kettle, stepped over the sleeping animal, and sat down beside him. He silently began to wipe away the blood and dirt from Lloyd's cheeks, his eyes and mouth, then lay the cloth over his swollen eyebrow. Although still warm, the material felt cool and comforting, like ice on a sprain. A herbal aroma wafted from the soft cloth and into Lloyd's nose, sending a wave of relief through him. He felt his muscles relax, and the pain in his face gradually subsided. He yawned.

He knew that although both of them were too stubborn to offer a verbal apology, Lloyd's relaxed silence and his father's tender nursing marked the tacit forgiveness between them. Lloyd's eyelids fluttered shut, and he leaned back on his bedroll. His father readjusted the warm cloth, drooped it over his forehead, and then he was asleep.

It hadn't always been like that, when all they did was exchange verbal or physical blows. Before he had been sent away to school, things were different. When he was little, his father took him everywhere and rarely let him out of his sight. Back then, his father was reasonable and kind, and so unlike the man he was now.

*

Shortly after his mother died, Lloyd had woken up alone from a nightmare. They had been staying at some inn or another, and when he found that he was by himself in the moonlit room, he began to cry. Unlike other children, Lloyd had a habit of crying softly, discreetly, partly because he was afraid of crying in front of his father, and partly because he was taught that for his own safety, he shouldn't bring attention to himself.

But his father heard. Miraculously, he heard his tiny whimpers all the way from the inn's bar, sprinted up the stairs and kicked the door open, ale in one hand, book in the other, demanding to know if Lloyd was all right. Surprised and frightened by such a dramatic appearance, he began to cry in earnest, until his father came over and sat beside him, lighting the candle and taking his son into his lap.

"I had a dream... about mom."

"We don't need to talk about her."

"Can I have some?" Lloyd pointed to the mug of ale on the bedside table.

His father laughed. "If you want. You won't like it. Next time, I'll bring you some hot mead."

Lloyd ignored his warnings and gulped some of the foam floating at the top, only to spit it out across his lap.

"I'll get you some water," his father said, but Lloyd grabbed his pant leg. He desperately didn't want to be left alone again.

"Read that to me," this time Lloyd pointed at the huge, bronze tome his dad had been sifting through for months.

"You won't like that, either."

"I don't care."

So his father lounged on the bed and took him in one arm, balanced the tome on his knee with the other, and began to read: "It is a matter of utmost importance, and indeed it is the only way to ensure successful forging of the ring, that the fires be fueled with sacred wood. One has several choices when considering procuring such wood. As it tends to grow the largest and most abundantly in the Ozette region, this would be the first choice if one wishes to acquire the finest specimens. However, land ownership laws in the region prevent independent logging. There are myriad legal processes one must endure when attempting to apply for a logging permit, the first of which involves composing a formal letter to the Royal Forestry Service to obtain written permission from the Tethe'allan monarch. Listed below are the various forms and procedures necessary in order to acquire a permit, all of which are subject to change..."


	2. The Tower

Lloyd groaned himself awake at the first light of dawn. He made the mistake of trying to rub sleep from his eyes, and the pain shook him upright. He couldn't see from his left eye—it seemed it had swollen shut. He groped around for the medicinal cloth from last night, found it, reapplied it to his aching face, but its potency had worn off. He looked with his one good eye to where his father was packing up, only to have something tossed to him. Suddenly devoid of depth perception, he could only flail as the object hit him on the nose and dropped into his lap. Lloyd squinted at it to find it was a hard biscuit, pasted with something green and nasty-looking.

"Breakfast. The spread is for the soreness."

Lloyd found he couldn't bring himself to say thank you. The biscuit tasted like dirt, but it satiated his rumbling stomach and eased the pain in his face. He packed up his things, haunted by his own guilty silence. He should never have brought up his mother. Kratos would've settled for merely disarming him, letting him off with a few bruises and maybe a scrape, if he simply just hadn't brought up his mother. He knew that was a surefire path to instant regret, so why did he insist on doing it, especially at the worst times? No answer immediately came to him.

For weeks, the answer still did not come. They stopped in Asgard for a few days to resupply before setting off to Hima. Lloyd estimated in those weeks he probably exchanged a hundred words with his dad, but every night without fail, they would spar, and he would lose, just like always. No further injuries, no mention of Lloyd's mother. Just the clack of sticks and the shuffling of circling feet seemed to suffice as communication, at least for the time being.

When they arrived in Hima, Lloyd perked up. As they made their way to the town's small inn, he rekindled his excitement about Tethe'alla. He tried to glance here and there for any signs of a doorway into the prosperous world, but as usual, the red, wind-shorn rock was silent, boring, mundane. Lloyd couldn't see anything of interest from their room's window, either, but that didn't stop him from staring.

"So, when are we going?" he muttered, breath condensing against the glass.

"I don't know. Soon."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

His father shot him a frozen glare. It was a look that never failed to silence him, so he tore himself from the window and threw himself onto the lumpy bed instead. He fished through his pack, searching for something to keep his mind occupied, but all he found was a heavily neglected book Genis had leant him earlier that year. It had taken Lloyd three months to get through twenty pages; he hadn't disliked the book, he just always read merely as a last resort for boredom. The text was obviously written with a younger audience than him in mind, but he figured Genis knew it was right about at his level. He cracked open the book, mostly for want of anything better to do.

"What are you reading about?" his father asked, apparently his interest piqued by seeing his son acting so uncharacteristically scholarly.

"The Kharlan War."

"Oh. How is it?"

"I dunno. I'm not that far into it."

"Well, don't believe everything you read."

Lloyd thought that was an odd bit of advice, but he already knew so little about history, even lies and misconceptions might do some good for his profound ignorance. Besides, the Kharlan War was so long ago and so far removed from his own life it didn't seem that real—or truthful—to begin with. Instinct told him that Mithos the Hero was probably about as made up as the sea monsters the sailors in Palmacosta always went on about.

Lloyd read well into the evening, which must've been a first for him, but he was caught up in a narrative involving a particularly brutal massacre of humans at the hands of some half-elf rebels. This incident had been well into the later years of the War, and it was only one of many atrocities—relatively mild, compared to others—but reading about the details of such injustice made him grip the edges of the book so hard he accidentally tore a page. When it was clear that continuing would jeopardize the safety of Genis' gift, he put the book on the bedside table and went downstairs, where his father sat with his own tome and a glass of ale.

"Order yourself some dinner," he said when Lloyd seated himself across from him. "You can have some mead if you'd like."

"Sure."

They ate in silence, but as Lloyd's mind wandered from the War to the prospect of visiting the prospering world, he started to feel his heart rise. He must've been visibly twitching, since his father felt the need to curb his enthusiasm.

"Don't act so jittery."

"I can't help it, if we're going to—"

"Quiet. You never know who'll be listening."

 _You're right, dad, I don't,_  Lloyd found himself thinking.  _That's because I'm not a paranoid old crazy._

His father leaned in. "But remember this. When the time comes, you're going to do exactly as I tell you. You're not going to question anything. You're not going to say anything. Do you hear me?"

Lloyd nodded, but he knew that when his dad became militant all of a sudden, it was a sure sign that things would go south. Like getting robbed by a couple of Desian thugs on the road.

"And Lloyd, if anything happens and we get separated, you know where to meet up?"

Lloyd nodded.

"In both worlds?"

Nod.

"Tell me the coordinates."

He did.

"Good. Don't act too excited. It's suspicious."

Lloyd couldn't help but smile at his old man's silly paranoia. If anything was going to get him excited, it was the prospect of leaving Sylvarant after all these boring years of school, punctuated only by boring trips with his dad out to the middle of nowhere to do goddess-knew-what.

When he went to bed, he could barely sleep. He tried to imagine Tethe'alla, but couldn't. His father had once told him that there are no Desians there. No human ranches, no exsphere manufacturing plants. When Lloyd was little he went so far as to imagine that people never suffered or died there. He went so far as to imagine that that was where his mother went after she disappeared. At this age he knew better, but still, a tiny, irrational part of him wished it was so, that as soon as he got there he would see her again, he would fall into her arms and stare at her face. He would finally remember what she looked like.

*

Lloyd should've guessed it would be the Tower.

It wasn't the only phenomenon in the world without a rational explanation, but it had to be the biggest. Clouds of sourceless miasma, trees whose nuts sang songs in the breeze, spirit-sightings and mass delusions were nothing compared to the thin sliver of a building, bending up to the sky in an endless, precarious arc. The priests said it contained the stairway with which the Chosen of Mana would ascend to heaven, scholars said it was a relic of the Kharlan era, and one particularly tipsy sailor once told Lloyd the real truth: it was the straw the goddess Martel plunged into the earth to drink out its sweet core like the milk of a coconut.

Lloyd and his father followed the rest of the village to the highest point in Hima to gaze at it—this beautiful sign of salvation, this bastion of hope for the future. Lloyd had always prided himself on his practical skepticism, but even he couldn't help the wave of awe the shuddered through him. He shivered against the freezing, high winds, ignored a scheming man trying to sell dragon rides to the Tower, and stared at the huge, fragile-looking construction piercing the sky. He wondered if Genis—or for that matter, the Chosen—could see it all the way from Iselia.

"That's our ticket, Lloyd," Kratos whispered against the wind.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"For the excitement to die down. They may be expecting us."

"They? Who's they?" Lloyd turned and found his father already heading down the hill toward the inn, and stumbled to catch up. "Hey, dad? Who?"

As usual, he got no answer, and after years of these sorts of silences, he knew not to press the matter. It would arise when it would.

He couldn't sleep at all that night. His father stood hyper-vigilant at the window, watching the Tower as if it might get up and walk away any minute. For all Lloyd knew, Kratos was just as excited as he was, but expressed it about as much as he expressed every other emotion—namely, not at all. Lloyd turned on his side and tried his best to fall asleep, until he heard the door creak open, then shut again. Footsteps echoed across the hall, down the stairs, and he heard the inn's front door close gently.

A sudden panic enveloped him and wouldn't let go. A thought emerged in his head and wouldn't leave, no matter how he told it to, no matter how he told himself to just calm down, to fall asleep. He knew, unquestionably, just  _knew_  the bastard was going to leave without him. He was going to abandon him, as he always did, right when something important was about to happen. That son of a bitch was going to go to Tethe'alla and leave him behind.

Not if Lloyd could help it.

As silently as he could, he crept out of bed, through the door and down the hall. Halfway down the stairs he realized he'd forgotten his jacket and shoes, but suddenly he didn't care. The goal was to catch up to his dad and give him a good uppercut to remind him not to leave his kid behind. He didn't have to have clean feet when he did it.

When he slipped out the door into the night, Noishe crawled out from under the inn's porch, tail swishing with worry. "Shh, boy. Stay," Lloyd whispered, shoving the dog away from him. The last thing he needed was Noishe to betray him to his father's supernatural hearing. When he had finally managed to quiet the dog and shove him back into the darkness under the porch, he shuffled to catch up to his father.

He could see the thin outline of Kratos' shadow on the red cliffs, but he kept his distance, trying not to breathe or make a sound. He gripped the rocks with his toes, careful to dislodge no pebble, crack no dry sticks beneath his feet. He followed his father up the pathway to the top of Hima's tallest hill, but when he scanned the area, he saw no sign of Kratos. Carefully, he emerged into the starlight. He could see everything from here to Luin, but his father was nowhere to be found. It was as if he had just disappeared into the sky.

Lloyd remembered that old guy trying to foist expensive dragon rides on unsuspecting tourists, and figured that his dad must've rented one of those. He poked around until he found the man sleeping in what seemed to be a stable built for cows, but which now housed a dozen or so scraggly, underfed dragons.

"Hey, you," Lloyd kicked him awake.

"What! Martel have mercy, what do you think you're doing, waking a man up at this hour?"

"Did someone just rent a dragon from you?"

"Of course not, no night rides allowed."

"Okay, did he  _steal_  one from you?"

The man looked over his scaly flock. "All accounted for here. You're crazy." Maybe he was. His father couldn't just jump off the cliffs and fly to the Tower. But something told him that was where Kratos had gone. He had no reason to go anywhere else.

"I need one of those dragons. Now."

"Wait till morning, buddy."

Lloyd couldn't wait till morning. He couldn't wait another second. The thought of his father going to the other world without him, the world without suffering, enraged him. What if he never came back? What if he just left him here? What if, Martel forbid, he got to reunite with Lloyd's mother before him? No. One of those dragons was going to carry him to that goddamned tower.

The dragon man must've seen the fury in Lloyd's face, because he immediately gave in. "All right, but you have to pay extra to ride at night."

"How about I just owe you?" Lloyd said as he hoisted himself onto one of the lazy animals. It woke with a jerk and yawned deeply. He suddenly regretted his decision—he'd never ridden a dragon before and he figured it'd be just as likely he'd fall from its back as get to the Tower.

"You're going to want a saddle," the salesman started, "It costs—"

"Eat me," Lloyd told him, nudging the dragon. He half expected the creature to reach back and bite his head off, but it was too late to have regrets now. The only thing left to do was cling desperately to the dragon's sides and keep his eyes trained on that enigmatic Tower in the distance. He gulped, ignored the whimpering complaints from the dragon man, and with a flurry of wings and scaly tail, the dragon leapt from the cliff and into the flurry of stars.

*

The Tower of Salvation was remarkably quiet. It seemed like a tube of nothing but air, and a long, clear walkway, bathed in green light. Far above him, and remarkably, far below, he saw nothing but empty space, oppressive and stifling in exactly the way open spaces are not meant to be. He was afraid to make any noise, not just because his father would hear him. The eerie sacredness of the building itself seemed to forbid it. This place didn't need a bevy of rigid priests walking through the aisles, shushing the bored congregation. In fact, there seemed to be no place for a congregation to gather at all. The only object of note in the Tower was something that looked like a glass altar, situated in the green haze at the other end of the soundless walkway. And there was his father, hand grasped around his sword hilt, standing before it.

Lloyd crouched and tried to approach in complete silence. And, as what usually happened when he tried to outmaneuver Kratos, he failed. "Lloyd!" The sheer rage in that shout was something he'd never heard before. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm coming with you!" he managed to pluck up the courage to reply.

"Get out, go back to Hima! It's not safe here!"

Lloyd was preparing a reply when his father shouted and sprinted toward him, drawing his sword. He suddenly feared that he would be cut down for his disobedience, but instead he was shoved roughly aside. As he fell and rolled he glimpsed a human creature strike an axe through the air where he had been. His father's longsword rang as it sliced up to meet the weapon. Lloyd scooted back to the corner of the altar and watched the two exchange blows, realizing with no small degree of horror that the strange attacker was some sort of angel. The white, feathery wings on its back, straining with the effort of the fight, told him as much.

His father made quick work of it, flicked the blood from his sword, and ran over to Lloyd. "Are you all right?"

Lloyd could only nod.

"Stay behind me, and never disobey me again."

He sat at the edge of the glass platform, against a pillar, helpless at his father's feet as more angels appeared seemingly from nowhere. The creatures flocked toward them, and Kratos, never straying more than a few feet from where Lloyd crouched, seemed to be able to hold his own against them. Lloyd could barely track his sword's movements as it cut and hacked and parried flawlessly. Lloyd only wished he could've helped. But he was weaponless, shoeless, overwhelmed.

"Lloyd, you're going to run to the exit." Kratos sliced an assailant in half. "You're not going to turn around." Stabbed another through the throat. "You're not going to look back." Another through the gut. "And you're not going to stop until you're far away."

Lloyd nodded, shaking.

"Now, go!"

He made for the light at the end of the glass walkway, dodging incoming blows, tripping over his own shoeless feet, heart racing in his throat. If he could just get to the entrance, he could remount his dragon and go get help, or better yet, force it through the doorway and see if it could breathe a flame or two on his father's attackers. Renewed with purpose, he sped up, eyes trained at the open entrance. Home free, he just had to make it a few more strides and he'd be—

He bumped into something. It was firm, unmoving, but strangely soft. He reeled, head swirling at the unexpected contact, and whatever it was blocking his way to the exit let out a chuckle. He lifted his eyes and found himself staring up into the face of a man he'd never seen before. The stranger's cold green irises petrified him, and in Lloyd's hesitancy, he reached out and grabbed him by the throat.

Lloyd felt his body turn to ice and the air freeze in his lungs. From somewhere far away he heard his father shout, and he could barely force his eyes in his direction.

"Kratos, I think you dropped something." The stranger's voice was bone-chillingly smooth, and soullessly calm. Lloyd told himself to struggle against his grip, but found he couldn't.

From the corner of his eye he saw his father, still as a rock, gaze locked with his own. Lloyd couldn't say he was sorry from this particular position, but he hoped his eyes could convey just as much.

In his father's momentary, desperate stillness, one of the angels thrust a sword into his back. Its tip emerged from his chest, shining silver and red in the eerie light. Lloyd could barely cry out as his father fell to his knees, ineffectually cupping the blood that flowed from the wound in his chest.

The strange man only laughed. "Now, be gentle with him. We don't want him to expire."

Two angels wrapped their arms around his father's, dragging him upright, where he proceeded to struggle weakly, all the while mouthing something to himself.

"What are you mumbling there, Kratos?" the strange man loosened his grip on Lloyd slightly, but not enough so his captive could escape. Lloyd kicked uselessly; he didn't have the strength or the leverage to pry his attacker from his neck.

Kratos raised his bloodied head, and through the din of angels scuffling, armor clinking, and his own gasping, Lloyd heard him whisper a word— _judgement_   _._

A white-hot pillar burst between Lloyd and his assailant, sending both flying. Lloyd slammed into the catwalk and rolled, every inch of him burning. His fingertips grasped at the glass, his charred socks gripping desperately as he slid to the edge of the platform. He squeaked to a smoky stop barely in time to keep himself from falling into the infinite blue light, but as he struggled to his feet, every muscle in him screamed. He could barely stumble toward his father, who now had one arm free and was weaving a spell in the air before him.

"Dad," Lloyd managed to squeak, reaching out a burnt hand.

While their attackers still reeled from the impact of the spell, the two locked eyes for a moment, and Lloyd knew what was coming wasn't good. His father's hand stilled, hovering before his face, and after a moment of silence, a wave of white energy burst from it. It screamed across the catwalk and hit Lloyd right in the chest, throwing him back into the air. A great blue chasm opened behind him and he felt himself being flung toward it, winded. Lloyd recognized it as a banishment spell almost immediately, even though he had never seen one before. He managed, as he fell through the great hole into whatever wasteland lay beyond, to look at his father's face one last time. The last thing he saw was Kratos' lips recite an incantation of rejection before the giant mouth of the chasm closed above him.


	3. Virginia

All was blue. All was air. He was weightless, buoyed only by an upward current of wind. Lloyd spread his arms, embracing the open sky, reveling in flight, until his head cleared enough to realize that he wasn't flying at all. He twisted his body in the air, glancing to the distant ground below, and with a horrible jump of his stomach, he realized he was falling.

 _I guess it's not a terrible day to die_ , he found himself thinking, until he remembered who had sent him here, miles above the ground and careening ever downward. It seemed his father would rather die alone than have his son by his side. Lloyd would've gone with him, taken a sword to the heart too, if only the old bastard would just let him. With each passing second, with each gust of freezing air that flew past him too fast for him to catch a breath, he grew angrier. But he could do nothing; just careen and flail and pray.

He was sailing far above an unfamiliar land, nothing but a speck in an endless blue sky. He knew that eventually, he would hit the ground, but he reckoned he still had a good minute to think about his situation. He wondered if he would beat his father to the moment of death—whether it would take longer for him to reach the ground or for Kratos to bleed out. But he would be damned if his old man got to greet his mother before him. He thought he'd rather not know exactly when the impact would come, so he flipped on his back and let gravity pull him swiftly downward.

He didn't see the impossibly floating mass of land blow in the wind under him, or how the only watering hole in the sky city happened by chance to line up precisely with his trajectory—all he knew is that he hit something hard, and hit it far sooner than he expected, and that even though it took his consciousness and emptied his lungs, he still lived.

*

The residents of Exire were not expecting a strange boy to fall from the sky. To be fair, Exire was an isolated town of so very little consequence that they didn't expect much of anything at all, ever. The most exciting thing they had on their little sky island was one madwoman, vociferous, bothersome, but ultimately harmless. When a body, clothes torn and burnt, soared from the clouds and landed with a steaming splash in their water source, they had little idea of what to do with him. After the initial panic had receded, after the local washerwoman had fished the boy from the water and found him miraculously alive, the mayor had to decide if it was better to subject him to their mad healer, or to just push him off the edge of the town and forget about him. After much deliberation, it was decided that shoving a helpless child off the edge of a floating city was just the kind of behavior the residence of Exire had fled the ground to escape, and they would be damned if they started acting like humans.

So they housed the injured boy with the madwoman, who happened by some joke of fate to be the world's most talented healer (when she was lucid enough to manage to cast a spell). They figured if they lumped their problems together, perhaps they would cancel out. Which isn't such a bad idea, considering it's easy to hit two birds with one stone when you shut both of them up in the same barrel.

*

Lloyd could almost hear his eyelids creak as he slowly forced them open. A blurred image of a woman's pale face came into view, and for a second he thought he might've found his mother. With a skip of his struggling heart, he realized he was either dead, or had made it to the land of riches, Tethe'alla. Perhaps they were one and the same. When he finally opened his eyes completely, he realized that no, he had not found his mother. The woman hovering above him, with her light eyes and long face, silver hair tucked neatly behind one curved ear, was clearly an elf.

So where was he? Where was… he suddenly remembered that he had fallen.

"How did I live?" he croaked.

"I'm not so sure you did," came the reply. Lloyd managed to sit up and examine his surroundings. He seemed to be in a cluttered but relatively clean hut, tucked into a straw bed. Ostensibly he was alive, as evinced by his aching body. Events that at first seemed to be so far in the past slowly came back to him: the Tower, the flocks of angels, the strange man with the ice-cold glare, and his father—Martel's love, his dear, stringent, boring father, killing angels and casting spells of unbelievable power. Lloyd had never seen anything like it before. Lloyd knew his father had been a talented swordsman, proficient in a few aspects of magic (unlike himself), but he never imagined he could call down pillars of light like that. He wondered what Kratos had hidden from him for so many years, and resolved that when he managed to get to their assigned meeting point, he would have a good long talk with his dad.

"I've gotta get outta here," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His muscles immediately protested, sending sharp pain through him. He clenched his teeth and hissed a little, but continued his valiant struggle against gravity in earnest.

"If you're going to leave, be quiet about it," the woman said. "Don't wake the baby."

"Baby?"

Lloyd looked over at the elf. She had seated herself on a creaking wooden chair, and in her arms she gently bounced a bundle of what seemed to be burlap and yarn. Lloyd squinted, and found that it  _was_  burlap and yarn—a doll, crudely fashioned, stuffed with straw, button eyes worn with the continuous strokes of its loving maker. It looked weary and lifeless, even for a doll.

And Lloyd had thought his own father was a little crazy. He sighed, knowing it was probably safest to humor her. He tried to get up as quietly as he could, but he couldn't help grunting and cursing his sore muscles. He had managed to get halfway out of bed when a knock came at the door and a timid voice called, "Virginia?"

"Coming," the elf woman replied, walking to the door. She ushered in a curious-looking fellow, probably another elf, by the looks of it.

"Good morning," he smiled at Lloyd. "You had quite a fall. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Lloyd lied.

"How in the world did you end up in the middle of the sky? You just... popped out of nowhere."

Lloyd scratched his aching head, thinking of the terrifying spell his father had cast, of the gaping blue hole that had swallowed him and spat him back out far away from the fight. He briefly wondered if his father had banished him for his own safety, or if he just wanted to get him out of his hair. He hadn't done a very good job of predicting where that portal would eject Lloyd... or maybe he just didn't really care. "Gods," Lloyd muttered, holding his head, "I don't even know. All of a sudden, I was just falling."

The man raised and eyebrow and gave Lloyd an incredulous look.

"Oh, it looks like the baby's getting hungry," Virginia said. "Excuse me, gentlemen, while I go feed her."

When she left, the man turned back to Lloyd. "I'm sorry we had to leave you with Virginia, but we have no other empty beds in the rest of the village, you understand. And she's the best healer we've ever had. Without her, well, I don't know if you would've pulled through. You were burnt pretty bad."

"Is this an elf village?" Lloyd asked.

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment. "H... half-elf."

Lloyd immediately cursed his luck for falling headfirst into a den of Desians, but then reconsidered. If they had wanted to enslave him he'd have woken up in chains; if they had wanted to kill him he wouldn't have woken up at all. No, for some reason, these people seemed different than Desians. He obviously had not fallen into the middle of a human ranch, but he still wondered why half-elves would be so kind as to nurse an inferior being like him back to health.

The man continued speaking, a little nervously. "We built this city—well, Virginia actually did most of the aeronautical planning, but we built this city to escape."

"Escape what?" What was there for a half-elf to escape? Wealth? Power? The overwhelming stink of inferior human animals?

The man gave him a confused look. "Our treatment. Down on the ground. We built this place to escape persecution."

"Persecution... against half-elves?" Lloyd almost laughed. Weren't they the ones running the ranches? Weren't they the ones herding and harvesting people like animals? And what did he mean about the ground?

The man frowned, taken aback. "I think you hit your head, kid. Maybe some fresh air will clear it." He led Lloyd outside the small hut and into the windy grey light of day. Lloyd closed the door behind him, turned around, and was immediately struck dumb by the view. He was standing eye-level with the clouds, watching a gorgeous but altogether unfamiliar land move slowly below him. His heart beat so violently he thought it might pop out of his chest, his head swirled, his legs shook, and he nearly fell headfirst off the edge of the floating city. But he couldn't help smiling. He had done it: he had made it to Tethe'alla.

*

With Virginia tending to him, Lloyd recovered quickly. She would bring him food, lay a warm cloth over his aching head, and wouldn't let him out of her sight. After he was all but cured, he was confronted with a seemingly insurmountable problem—how to get back down on the ground. While he was recovering and being nursed alongside the doll as Virginia's child, he asked around how he could manage to get to the ground below. From every villager he got the same answer: he couldn't. That was the whole point of Exire. Total isolation.

No wonder Virginia had gone insane.

As the days wore into weeks, Lloyd grew accustomed to her ramblings, her hang-ups, that creepy doll she insisted was her daughter, Raine. She also harped on about how she was pregnant again but hadn't yet chosen a name. Lloyd humored her, because even though her meals were terrible and her ranting was worse, even though she would address Lloyd by myriad names, none of which were his own, she had an indomitable aura of kindness, and it was because of her that he was able to recover from his injuries so quickly. And rarely, very rarely, Virginia suffered from bouts of lucidity so convincing that Lloyd began to suspect that sometimes, when the stars lined up just right, she wasn't crazy at all.

"You know, I used to be the top aeronautical engineer in Sybak," she said suddenly, after placing a plate of barely-cooked rice in front of him. The doll slept peacefully in a handmade crib in the corner, even through the horrible stench of Virginia's dinner. Lloyd was fairly sure the smell could've woken the dead.

"Really?" he said, stuffing his mouth and trying not to break his teeth on the grains.

"It's true. I was the best they had. Until my family insisted I separate myself from the university and go back home to Heimdall. 'Not a place for an elf,' they said. A bunch of goddamn racists, if you ask me."

Lloyd, surprised at her sudden history lesson, laughed so hard his rice came spouting back out onto his plate.

Virginia, however, didn't think it was that funny. She sat with her hands in her lap, crossing and uncrossing her legs like she was a guest at an awkward dinner party. "To tell you the complete truth, I couldn't stand living here, on this empty island." Suddenly she stilled. "I couldn't stand it at all." Her face fell, and she turned to stare at the wall for several minutes. Lloyd was afraid to speak, lest he interrupt her thoughts, so he ate in silence. Eventually, something seemed to hit her, and her eyes lit back up. "You know, Kloitz, I've been hearing rumors that you're going to be leaving me up here. That you're going back down to the ground."

"I'm going to try. And I'm not Kloitz."

"I know I shouldn't cry over the inevitable," she said. "But sometimes I can't help it." Virginia's shoulders began to shake and she hung her head. Lloyd, not sure what to do, scooted his chair over to her and put an awkward hand on her back. When she glanced up at him, her eyes were red and watery. Her hands kneaded violently, as if in pain that they were not holding their doll. "I abandoned them. I did. At the gate to the other world." At this point Lloyd was sure she had retreated back into insanity.

She did not emerge from her delusions again for days. Every few hours she would go to the window and mutter something about a secret, then leave, come back into the house, sing a song to her doll and rock it to sleep. Lloyd only watched her, not willing to interrupt. He took her lapses in reason as an invitation to retreat within himself, to think long and hard about the bewildering spectacle that had taken place at the Tower of Salvation. He mused on it for hours at a time, trying to make sense of the whole thing, but couldn't. He just didn't know enough. He didn't know enough about the Tower, about the angels, even about his own dad.

So he made plans. He composed a flawless argument accusing his father of gross neglect. He secretly gathered things he would need when he escaped this place—a few thin blocks of cheese, salted meat, occasionally money, some extra clothes here and there, mostly things the other residents of Exire tossed in the waste pile at the edge of town, where it would be thrown to the ground later. With all this packed, he would go to the assigned meeting place and wait for his father, and he would have a few choice words for him—if he was still alive.

Lloyd spent weeks feeding and nursing his escape plans, like Virginia fed and nursed her doll. Also like the doll, he wasn't sure if his plans would ever grow to be something real. After weeks of no progress, no sign of his escape ever being possible, he started to consider going crazy himself. He had to concede that losing his mind might be the only way to escape this place, but his plans solidified when one day Virginia rebounded into clarity. "You're looking to leave, aren't you?" she asked him.

"If I can."

"You can. When I came here I began to build a way out. I wanted to go find them. But I can't, I just can't. I'm too weak." She stared at him intensely for a moment. "It's in the shed."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Lloyd asked, as gently as he could.

"I had forgotten. Maybe on purpose. I don't think I want a way out. So I didn't have to be accountable."

"Accountable? To who?"

She buried her face in her hands for a few minutes, before gathering herself. She still didn't give him an answer. Maybe she'd forgotten he'd asked the question.

She led Lloyd out the side of the house to the storage shed, one that he had assumed had been empty, since he never saw her even unlock it, much less go inside. But as she fiddled with the padlock, he got a feeling that she had his ticket out.

In the glowing dust of the old shed, Lloyd could make out the curved outline of what appeared to be a small wing.

"It's just a prototype, but it should get you to where you're going."

Lloyd had never told her where he was going.

Virginia turned away from the winged machine and looked at him with uncharacteristically clear eyes. "Kloitz… No, not Kloitz. Lloyd. Lloyd, who fell from the sky. Some people here don't want outsiders to know this town exists. They might not let you leave. So tonight, when they're asleep, take this to the edge and just drop. The machine will glide. Just have faith."

Lloyd wasn't sure if he appreciated being told to jump to his death by such a nutter, but he also wasn't sure how else he'd get off this floating rock.

"I may not be this clearheaded later," Virginia continued, brimming with tears, "so do not listen to me if I try to dissuade you. Take this." She handed him a tattered book, covered in as much dust as the neglected flying machine. "Find them. Find them and tell them I'm so, so sorry."

"Find who?"

"My children."


	4. The Oracle

That night, when Lloyd dragged the tiny gliding machine to the edge of the floating city, he was absolutely certain he was going to fall to his death. Of course, anyone told to push a glider off a cliff and jump right on would have some reservations about it. He stared into the endless blue night below him, watching the grey, glowing forms of clouds swirl like drops of milk in tea. Maybe if he aimed for one of them he could land on it… Lloyd shook his head. This was impossible, it was certain death, he couldn't do it, he  _wouldn't_.

But to Lloyd's great surprise, he did it anyway. When he careened down through the freezing night air, still certain he was going to die, all of a sudden he felt strangely free. The machine, as if awoken simply by being reintroduced to its intended environment, sprung to life on its own. It spread two grey canvas wings, spouted some gaseous waste behind it and shot off toward the horizon. Lloyd barely held on as the device made its own course; for the first while the best he could do was try not to fall off. Cold bursts of air flew into his nose and mouth, making it difficult to breathe, but after a few minutes of fighting with the machine and the wind around him, he managed to find the steering. He held on for dear life, clutching at the levers, until he finally got the hang of this whole flying thing.

Lloyd found himself laughing at the blasts of cold air on his face, the sputtering of the motor. He loved the freedom, the power he felt when he tipped the glider and curved his own path against the sky. He could finally go wherever he wanted—no father to hold him back, no walls, no fences. He had half a mind to stay up there forever, gliding across the world, never troubling himself with the problems on the ground, so far below him.

After about an hour, when the initial rush was over, he realized he had no idea where he was, or how to get where he wanted to go. A small, dingy screen sat in the control apparatus, so he played with it, trying to type in the coordinates he wanted.

It turned out that although Virginia seemed to be a brilliant engineer, she was not so good at building computers. At least, Lloyd assumed this was a computer—he had only heard about them, vaguely, from his father. Nevertheless, after tapping at the screen mindlessly for what seemed like forever, he was finally able to bring up a map of the surrounding area, and the corresponding coordinates. When he found that his mark was conveniently close by, he geared toward it at full speed, realizing just then that he had no idea how to land.

By the time he neared the mountain, it was too late to learn. He pulled up as fast as he could, but the machine still sped downward, missing its intended landing spot by at least a few miles. The glider continued to descend, sputtering smoke. It bumped and screeched as the treetops scraped its underside, splintering the metal and shredding the canvas wings. Lloyd, cursing his ineptitude, released the steering, raising his hands to protect himself from the impact. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, preparing for a backbreaking collision. With a skip of his heart, he felt himself wrenched from the machine, which twirled into the ground with a deafening crash.

To his surprise, his sudden contact with earth was gentle—breezy almost. He dared to open his eyes and saw below him a patch of what looked like giant petals. He felt a puff of air slow him to a gentle descent, and he landed in a bed of huge, soft flowers. The plants wiggled and puffed bubbles of warm air at him, and despite the sheer weirdness of the flora, Lloyd felt himself relax. He sat on the comfortable petals, rather pleased with his landing. That was a pretty nice piece of luck.

The flying machine, though, seemed to be beyond repair. It had crumpled as soon as it hit the mouth of one of the bizarre flowers, its wings bent pathetically under it. It looked like with a few weeks of loving care it might be workable again, but the thing was old and extremely delicate, and Lloyd didn't have the skills to fix it. He figured the likelihood of finding a glider repairman out in this wilderness was pretty low, so he would have to leave it to the mercy of the flowers. It looked like he'd have to go on foot from here on out.

The mountainside was dotted with hundreds of those strange, breathing flowers. Lloyd tugged his pack closer to him and headed upward, cursing his father's decision to designate their meeting point at the top of a mountain. Leave it to his dad to make things hard for him. But he trudged upward, always the loyal son. At least this solitary journey gave him time to think about things, about his father's spell, the blond man with the cruel smile, and the Tower. He wondered what they all had to do with one another, but so far he had no leads except this meeting point. His thoughts just chased themselves in circles, going nowhere.

He walked on until the sun peeked over the mountaintop, bathing the sky in pink light. As he made his way upslope, the air grew colder and the trees thinner. He stopped to nibble on some cheese (squished in his landing), drink some water and take in the sight of the wilderness of the prospering world. It amazed him that even here, so far from people, there were generous trees of edible fruits, and clear water running from every crack in the stone cliffs. Even the wastelands of Tethe'alla were overrun with resources.

When he neared the summit, he spied a small hut squatting on one of the hillside's plateaus.  _That must be it_ , he thought, and scrambled up the scree toward it. Within a few minutes he arrived at the little house, panting. He threw his pack down by the door and reached for the knob, expecting it to be locked tight, but the door creaked open easily. Faint morning light slipped in through the only window, and he crept inside, sneezing at the dust. The hut struck him as a curious place to meet up—but his father must've figured if one of them got there a long time before the other, he could wait in comfort. The air was fresh, the building wasn't too cold; he wouldn't mind waiting here for at least a couple days.

He was about to make himself comfortable when he realized the hut was already occupied. A small fire flickered in the tiny hearth on the back wall, and a hunched figure slumped before it, reaching out to its warmth.

"Oh," Lloyd said. "Excuse me."

An old man, who looked to be an elf, turned to him slowly, as if not surprised in the least bit to see a stranger appear at his door. He had the look of an oracle about him, with his wizened wrinkles and tattered cloak.

"Who are you?" Lloyd asked.

"I'm the caretaker of this hut. Just an old man with a simple job."

"Oh. I'm Lloyd. I'm waiting for my father."

The sage smiled. "You'll be waiting for a long time, then."

"How do you know him?"

"Oh, plenty of people know Kratos."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes. "Do you know where he is?"

"No. But he left something the last time he was here. Something he told me to watch over for him." The old man shuffled to the far corner of the hut and bent down. He reached under a side table and tugged a long black chest from the shadows. "My old bones can't handle this weight," he said, motioning for Lloyd to pick it up.

Lloyd heaved it onto the table and undid the latches. He glanced at the old man, who nodded at him to open it. Lloyd held his breath and lifted the lid. What he found inside both intrigued and bewildered him.

The first thing he removed from the chest was a massive tome, bound in wrinkled leather and thick with dust. He cracked it open to find lines and lines of a language he didn't understand. He set that aside and pulled out a small chunk of metal that glinted in the dim light. He couldn't make anything of that, either. The third thing to appear from the chest seemed to be some rotting kindling, which confused him more than the rest. But the next item he pulled out left him dumbfounded. It was a curved longsword, and when Lloyd slid it from its sheath, he saw the blade was etched with flames. When the light of the fire caught its steel, it seemed to glow an eerie red, as if it were the embers of some ancient power. Letters in some foreign tongue were embossed near its hilt. He turned the sword over and over in his hands, shaking his head, mind running in frantic circles.

Why would his father need such a magnificent thing? And something that seemed so old? He looked to the sage for help, but the old man merely shook his head as if he knew nothing about it.

Lloyd turned back to the chest, reached in and pulled out another book, smaller this time, and sifted through the yellowed pages. His father's handwriting filled nearly every inch of paper, a goldmine of barely legible scribbles. Lloyd shuffled through the pages, landing on one near the end, where apparently his father had been in some big hurry to stop writing.  _Contact Summoner in Meltokio, utmost impo_ —is all it said. Lloyd frowned, figured he'd decipher its meaning later, and reached back into the chest. His fingers wrapped around something small and he plucked out what appeared to be an exsphere, glinting blue, complete with key crest.

"Fancy that," he muttered. With this, and with the strange sword he had discovered, he would finally be able to hold his own. He had never used an exsphere before, but his dad usually wore one. He'd once asked him about the basics, and wasn't given extremely an informative answer, but he thought he had the gist of how they worked. Stick it on, warm it up, and instant power. He had a feeling he would use this quite a bit.

He set the exsphere aside and reached into the black box again. He found another small, round thing, and he pulled out what appeared to be a locket, trailing a thin silver chain. He had some trouble getting his fingernails between its rusty sides, but when he opened it, he fell back into a chair, hand over his mouth.

There she was. Her, and his father, and what must've once been him cradled between them. His father's hand was on his mother's shoulder, her hand laid across his. And Lloyd. Damn, he was a fat baby. He heard himself let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a chuckle. The old man watched Lloyd make a fool of himself, but he said nothing, choosing simply to observe from the shadows. When Lloyd calmed himself down a little, he removed his hand from his open mouth and wiped his eyes. He reluctantly set aside the locket and turned his attention back to the box. He wanted more of this, more of his mother—maybe if he was lucky he'd pull out a portrait, or a lock of her hair.

He was disappointed when he reached again into the chest. He pulled out several strange artifacts—a pot, what looked to be a ceremonial knife, a rusty brooch. He thought he recognized the knife and the brooch from somewhere, then remembered that the book Genis had given him had illustrations depicting items remarkably similar to these ones.

"These are relics of the ancient war," Lloyd muttered, half speaking to himself, half to the old man. "Where could my dad possibly get these?"

The sage smiled feebly. "Ask him yourself."

Lloyd clenched a fist. "I would, but he's probably dead."

"Do you believe he's dead?"

Lloyd hesitated for a moment before answering, "No. Not really."

"Your father has an old soul. He's tenacious. He's good at evading death. He has done so for many years."

 _So how many years of good luck can he have left?_  Lloyd thought. But he said, "What do I do now?"

"Take what you can with you. I'll keep the rest safe, as I have promised him. Go find him. But you may rest here first, if you wish."

"Thanks." Lloyd's stomach rumbled, so he sat on the old man's floor, took some cheese from his pack and began to munch. He lay all of the items from the box next to one another, looking them over and rubbing his chin. After a good nap, a good meal and a few minutes to think, he began to pack his things.

Lloyd decided to take the small leather book filled with his father's scribbles. He stacked it on top of Virginia's diary and lay the books down on the bottom of his bag. He left the chunk of metal, the wood, and the decorative ancient artifacts that looked like they'd be more comfortable in a museum than anywhere else. He pulled the locket around his neck and strapped the sword to his side. It felt heavy and brittle, and Lloyd didn't know if something that old would even survive combat, but at least it was a weapon at all. He wouldn't need to hide behind his father now, and wouldn't need to stand by helplessly as Kratos fought, fled and embroiled himself in some angelic debacle Lloyd could not understand. The last thing from the chest he chose to take with him was the bluish exsphere. He looked for an accessible place on his body onto which he could apply it, and his left hand seemed to do. He lay the key crest on his skin and pressed the exsphere into it. He wasn't expecting the prickling pain he felt when the little stone came into contact with his skin. But the discomfort was over in a moment, and after the exsphere successfully fused with his hand, a kind of warm glow spread through his body. Somehow he felt that it belonged on him, and for a split second he wondered if he had ever worn it before. Its presence seemed natural to him, but at the same time this unexpected familiarity with it unnerved him. He would definitely have to interrogate his father about this little stone when he finally found him.

But for now, he knew he needed to get to Meltokio, wherever that was. The last scribble in his father's little book was about the only clue he had. He heaved his pack onto his back and thanked the old sage for his kindness. With no time to waste, he walked out the door, closing it behind him, only to return moments later, red-faced.

"Um, hey. Which way is Meltokio?"


	5. Sheena

Within the week Lloyd found himself at the entrance to the Elemental Research Institute. It wasn't hard to find if you just asked around, and in Meltokio, there were plenty of people to ask. He'd never seen a city so big—in Sylvarant the paucity of mana and manpower didn't permit such cities to grow. Not to mention the Desians, who would attack and ravage any town they thought might be big enough to pose a threat to their operations.

The city amazed him. The streets were clean, well-paved, well-decorated and lined with greenery, and the people who walked along them wore the richest, most extravagant clothing Lloyd had ever seen. Frills, jewelry, shining plates of glass and gold, heeled shoes—every citizen of Meltokio was a sight to take in. Their accents were heavy and struck him as posh and too proper, but they spoke the same language as Lloyd had in Sylvarant. They understood him when he apologized for bumping in to them—he was so preoccupied with gazing up at the impossibly tall buildings, at the incredible statues and outlines of chapels and mansions of nobility, he could hardly watch where he was going.

Strangest about the city was that everyone here seemed to wear an exsphere. Kratos had never let Lloyd wear one; he said they were too rare and too dangerous, but here they were ubiquitous. Ladies sported them as necklaces, earrings, and bracelets, men in their wristwatches or rings. Many talked about how exspheres changed with the seasons—what kind was in fashion one month was out the next, and there seemed to be an endless supply of them. Lloyd knew their manufacture took place either in human ranches or facilities like them, so he assumed they required plenty of labor to produce. But there were no human ranches here, so it was a mystery to Lloyd how there were so many. Maybe outside of Meltokio they had factories that took employees, rather than ranches that took slaves.

He had considered upgrading his own exsphere—perhaps buying a fancy Lezarano one that was said to be the most powerful product on the market, but he liked his own; there was something familiar and comforting about it. He didn't know why. Maybe he had seen his father wear it at one point.

He rubbed it for good luck and entered the Research Institute. The lobby was dark and slightly smelly, but the receptionist smiled at him kindly, asking if she could help him.

"I'm looking for the resident summoner," he said.

"Sheena? She's busy at the moment, but she's in."

"I'll wait."

Lloyd sat opposite the desk, twiddling his thumbs. He really didn't know what he'd say to her, since he had no idea what his father had wanted to meet her for. He figured he might just show her the book and ask her to decipher the enigmatic drawings, the illegible scribbles, or the seemingly out-of-place instances of complicated mathematics scattered across its insides.

He decided to pull out the book Virginia gave him, if only because he didn't have much else to do to pass the time. He barely got it open when someone emerged from the more shadowy parts of the Institute and into the lobby. Lloyd knew at once that this person wasn't the summoner, so he got up and tried to move past him, but apparently the stranger had another idea. So subtly that it seemed accidental, he blocked Lloyd's way and stared him down, his eyes narrowing. When Lloyd was just about to open his mouth to ask him what his problem was, he stepped aside and strode through the front door with a dramatic swish of his cloak. Lloyd watched him leave, then decided he didn't have time to chase him down and demand to know what the big idea was. He just went in to see the summoner.

She sat at a desk, petting what looked like a fox, or may have been a fox in a previous life. It truly was a strange animal, and it reminded him a little of Noishe. He wondered how the old dog was doing—probably getting fat from the leftovers at the Hima inn. He smiled, his mind lost somewhere back in Sylvarant with his dog, when the summoner brought him back.

"Hello? Are you in there?" she asked.

"Oh. Huh. Yeah. I was wondering if you knew anything about what's in this book." He handed her his father's mysterious journal, and she flipped through it.

"What the..." She leaned over the book, turning page after page, silently.

"What is it, Sheena?" the little fox-thing asked.

"Whoa! It talks!" Lloyd nearly fell over with the revelation.

"Of course, you moron," the fox replied.

"Corinne, quiet for a moment." Sheena kept reading while Lloyd and Corinne stared at each other in silence. Lloyd wished Noishe could talk. Then at least they could complain about his father to one another.

After a few minutes, the summoner sighed, closed the book and stood up. "It looks like whoever wrote this was trying to forge a pact ring. But it's incomplete. Who gave this to you?"

"My dad."

"Well, he was doing it mostly right. There are a few things he got completely wrong, though. Where's the ring?"

Lloyd shrugged. "I don't think he made it yet."

"Well, he couldn't have, unless he's a dwarf. Which I take it he's not."

Lloyd shook his head.

"And what in the hell do you need a pact ring for? Are you a summoner?"

Lloyd again shook his head.

"Then why do you wanna know?"

"I... um... my dad sort of went missing. The only clue I have is what he wrote in there. I figured if he came here looking for a summoner, you may have seen him."

"I never met anyone looking to make a pact ring like this. Sorry, kid. Good luck with your search, though." Sheena handed back the old book and Lloyd deflated. So much for a lead. Maybe he could find something else in that little book. He threw it in his bag, sighed, and exited the Institute.

Back out in the open air, the sun nearly blinded him; they kept it so damn dark in that building. He raised his hand to his face and walked blindly down the street. He hadn't got five feet before someone grabbed his collar from behind, spinning him around.

Before he knew if he was in any real danger, his attacker let him go. He lowered his hand and examined his assailant. It seemed to be the man from the lobby, but in the sunlight he could see him a little better—long hair with a blue tinge, elfin face, sharp mouth.

"Where did you get that?" the man demanded.

"Get what?"

"That sword."

"None of your business," Lloyd spat. Who did this guy think he was, grabbing strangers out of nowhere? "Besides, what do you care?" He shoved the man away, but as he did so he felt a small pinch on the back of his neck. The stranger retreated, but to Lloyd's horror he had taken the locket with him.

"Well, I'll be damned," he smiled, opening the trinket.

"Give that back."

The man pocketed the locket and its now broken chain, and shot Lloyd a discerning frown. "If you want it back, you should probably board the northbound ship leaving the harbor tomorrow at three in the afternoon. The summoner will be there. Stick with her."

Lloyd fumed, but he knew he couldn't just cut this guy down in the middle of the street. Instead he only watched the strange man walk away with his newfound treasure—the only image of his mother he'd ever owned. He grit his teeth, clenching his fists in anger, but he didn't chase after the man. A few guards, shining like mirrors in well-polished armor, stood watch about a street away, and the last thing he wanted was to be hauled into a dungeon. He didn't want to play this stranger's game, but he found himself turning away, cursing, and retreating. He decided it might be best if he could sleep it all off. He figured he probably had enough money to buy himself a room and a hot meal in one of the slummier hotels, and still have fare for the boat. He would see the summoner tomorrow on the ship, and he would be able to interrogate her then.

That night, he sat in the inn's creaking, moldy, tacky bar, picked at an undercooked meal, and tried to read the book Virginia had given him, which within the first few seconds he knew to be a diary. It started off pretty benignly, right after she had come home from the city of Sybak, where she had a few unkind words to say about her parents, the university, and racial relations between humans, elves, and half-elves. It surprised Lloyd to learn that racism was practically reversed in Tethe'alla, but he figured prejudice was still prejudice, and since there were no Desians here, only regular half-elves, the disdain for them seemed unwarranted.

The diary was fascinating, especially in its scathing social commentary, but as he read on, it became more and more scatterbrained. It would skip months, sometimes even years, and before long, Lloyd was accompanying Virginia to the naming of her first child, Raine. It was a purely elfin ceremony, even though Raine's father was human. The naming procedure was sacred but simple: first the baby would be submerged in a river to receive the blessings of the water spirits. Then she would be dried with the cloak of the town elder, before being dressed in hey whatcha doing reading in a fun place like this—

Lloyd looked up to find a smirking redheaded man a little too close to his face. "What?"

"I said, whatcha doing reading in a fun place like this? Live a little, bud!"

"Who are you?"

The man looked shocked for a second, then bellowed out a laugh. "Aw, good one. Come on, we've been watching you for a while. You're making us all sad, sitting there alone. And with a  _book_ , no less. For shame, kid. Get over here and have some fun. Drinks are on me." He turned, stumbling, very obviously already intoxicated.

Before Lloyd could even refuse, he was swept up into a crowd of obnoxiously tipsy women, both poor and rich, barmaids and nobles, all clumping around this odd character. The man raised a glass and called for more, spilling some on Lloyd's shirt.

Someone had thrust a mug into Lloyd's hand, and out of sheer nervousness, he began to drink it. Pretty soon there was another one. And another—"Zelos, darling, the poor boy's cup has gone dry. Get him another!"

And so he found his night turn into a swirl of skirts, awkward singing, and perpetual dizziness. Lloyd was only aware of disconnected pieces at a time, all bathed in a confused haze of drunkenness. At some point they played a game that oddly necessitated him balancing a spoon in his mouth while sitting on the shoulders of the nearest barmaid. At another point he and one of the women ended up dancing on the table. At yet another point he found himself in the street, opposite Zelos, who had now also taken off his shirt and was jumping up and down, swinging his fists. Before Lloyd even realized why they had been fighting, or if this was a real fight or for play, the redhead sprang for him. Driven more by confusion than fear or anger, Lloyd raised his hand in defense and it came into reluctant contact with the man's face.

Zelos reeled, hand on his cheek, eyes wide. "You  _hit_  me!" he screamed.

Lloyd shook his hand, stinging from the impact. "Duh. We're… we're fighting, right?"

"Ugh, you don't  _hit_  me! Not in the  _face_! Dammit!"

Lloyd lowered his fists, confused. What the hell was this guy—

While his guard was down, Zelos decided to get his revenge. His knee came up to meet Lloyd in the stomach while his fist met his temple. Lloyd fell on all fours, winded, and the nausea he had been building up all night came to a head.

"I'm gonna—" he started, but after that only vomit came out. While he was busy hurling on the muddy street, Zelos retreated to his swarm of women, nursing his face. When Lloyd was sure he had regurgitated everything he had eaten in the last week, he looked up to find Zelos and his groupies gone. He was alone, and suddenly very cold. He realized he didn't have any idea why he was out here, in the night, shirtless.

He stumbled back into the inn, but by this time the bar was mostly empty. Lloyd decided now may be a good time to crawl into bed, but he barely made it up the stairs and through the door to his room before he collapsed on the floor.

*

Lloyd opened his eyes and immediately regretted doing so. Everything was bright, too bright. He laid an arm over his face and turned over to go back to sleep, when he suddenly remembered he had someplace to be. He bolted upright, ignoring the excruciating pain that shot into his head. He struggled to his feet and looked through the window to find the sun high in the sky.

_I'm late—oh shit—I'm so late, I won't get there in time, I've missed the boat, I've missed it._  He threw on his boots and grabbed his pack, rushing downstairs, through the bar and out the door. He turned around halfway down the street and burst back into the inn, where he dove under a nearby table for the diary he had left there the night before.

He ran down the road and out of the city, suppressing his overwhelming nausea, the pain in his swollen face, and his unbelievable headache. He barely made it down the thoroughfare to the port, stumbling on shaking legs, trying not to open his eyes too wide. Why did the sun have to be out today? And so high up there? What time was it anyway?

When he reached the port, he called to a man he saw sweeping the docks. "Hey! What time is it?"

"About three."

"Is this the northbound ship?" Lloyd asked, gesturing to a huge monster of a boat behind him.

"No, son. That one's going to Altamira. The one you want is over there." The man pointed to a dingy, sad-looking vessel at the end of the dock. "And you want to get on it fast."

Lloyd barely had time to say thanks before he rushed down the dock and to the boat. He threw some money at the man keeping guard over the ramp leading up to the ship, ran across it, and collapsed onto the deck with a sigh of relief. A few minutes later the boat trembled below him, and he was off. He stayed lying down for the first little while, waiting for his bouts of sickness and pain to pass. He couldn't remember exactly what he did the night before, couldn't remember what he drank or how much. He held his throbbing head, trying to recall what had happened, but only a few snippets came back here and there. Dancing, fighting, spewing his dinner on the street. He couldn't stop himself from blushing in belated embarrassment. He had drunk whisky before, when he and a Palmacostan sailor boy had wandered the docks, pilfering what they could, but never had he experienced that sort of disorientation. The drinks last night had been sweet, copious, so unlike the painful, burning swigs he'd taken in secret in the alleys behind the boys' academy.

Well… whatever that night had entailed, it was over. He knew he might as well forget about it now, might as well stop wallowing in nauseated self-pity. When he thought he might be okay to stand, he made his way across the ship, looking for the summoner.

The ship wasn't too big, so he didn't have to search very long. He found her leaning off the stern, arms crossed, head down. He approached her, but she didn't seem to notice him. She was staring intently, seriously, into the water, as if looking for something beneath its surface. He spied the little fox-creature spring from her collar and sit on her shoulder, watching him. The fox said something in her ear and she turned around.

"Hey, Sheena."

"Oh. Hi. Um... what's your name?"

"Lloyd."

"What are you doing here? And what did you do to your face?"

"I didn't do this. I don't really remember what happened. Somehow I got in a fight with some obnoxious ginger guy."

"I know one of those," she said. "He likes to go to that bar right outside the slums and pick up hordes of girls. Sometimes he disappears for days."

"I think that's the one... Zel... hm..."

"Zelos?"

"Yeah. That was him."

"Holy hell, did you smack him one?"

"Yup."

Sheena burst out laughing. "Lloyd, you may be the only person in Meltokio brave enough to hit the bastard."

"Why shouldn't I hit him?"

Sheena blinked at him, dumbfounded. "Because. Well, you don't know?"

Lloyd shook his head.

"He's the Chosen."

He blinked back at her, just as dumbfounded—a flood of confusion overtook him. He didn't know why the prospering world would need a Chosen, or why the clergy would choose someone like that. But he decided to forgo the kind of questions that would only reignite his splitting headache. He just smiled at Sheena and scratched his neck. "Whoops."

The summoner put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll get you a royal pardon. Martel knows he needed a punch or two." She crossed her arms and her little fox retreated back into her shirt, head poking from her collar. "You really didn't know he was the Chosen?"

"I'm… not from around here," was the best Lloyd could come up with.

"So then... what are you doing on this creaking death tub? Going to Flanoir?"

"Following you, actually."

Sheena's head tilted curiously. "Oh?"

"That man, the blue-haired weirdo. He told me to stick with you."

"Yuan? He did? He didn't tell me about this."

"I don't trust him, Sheena," the little fox hissed.

Lloyd ignored the suspicious little animal. "He took something of mine and told me to follow you to get it back. It was something important to me." He frowned at Sheena's suddenly serious stare. "I don't know if you believe me, and I can't make you. But I don't see much harm in letting me stick with you."

Sheena turned back to the ocean, frowning. "There might be great harm. But if Yuan told you to, I suppose I should consider it." The summoner's brown eyes darkened, and she stared into the water. Her smile had all but faded.

Lloyd leaned over the railing beside her, trying to ignore his seasickness. "Yuan is a half-elf, right?" he asked after a while. Sheena looked at him but didn't answer. "Is he a Desian?"

"A Desian?"

"Never mind. Where I'm from, well, let's just say, um, it's different."

Sheena stared at the horizon for a good long minute before asking, "You're from Sylvarant, aren't you?"

Lloyd nodded. He wasn't sure if anyone here even knew about Sylvarant.

"That's probably why Yuan told you to come with me. You can show me around. But are you sure you're willing to do this?"

Lloyd thought for a moment, wishing he could ask what it was he was supposed to be doing, but he couldn't. He knew he had almost convinced her to take him with her—he couldn't jeopardize this now. He only nodded.

"Fine. Our escort will be here in a few hours. Meet me below deck."

She turned and walked off in silence. From her retreating shoulder, the little fox glared at him until Sheena descended into the hull and out of sight.

*

The escort had boarded the ship seemingly without the other passengers knowing. He was a quiet, shadowy figure, lounging innocuously on the lower decks until Sheena and Lloyd strode up to him and conveyed their intentions. Without a word, the man led them to the starboard side, motioning to a creaking dinghy swaying sickly in the freezing water. Lloyd shivered as he stepped over the side of the ship into the smaller, quieter vessel. Snow fluttered around him in the chilly wind, and he pulled his traveling cloak tighter around him. He had only seen snow a couple of times, mostly from a distance, on the peaks of the mountains around Palmacosta. In the city itself, it only rained.

Both Sheena and the escort were silent the whole way there (wherever "there" was), and Lloyd followed suit. All the while, the little fox on Sheena's shoulder eyed him suspiciously. After an hour or two they came to a mountainous rock jutting above the ocean's choppy surface. It was surrounded by others just like it, and Lloyd didn't know why this one was so special, until they pulled into a rickety dock and disembarked. Carved into the side of the mountain was the largest door Lloyd had ever seen, crafted with blue metal and menacing as hell. He felt himself gulp.

The escort led them inside, where to Lloyd's relief, it was a fair bit warmer. Down the halls they went, through automatic doors, up an elevator, down more halls... Lloyd almost felt his motion sickness return. Finally they came to a room tackily decked out in red drapes, gold furnishings and far too many plants. At a desk at the opposite end of the room sat Yuan. He lifted his head, removed a pair of delicate spectacles and stood to greet them.

"Lloyd, I didn't think you would come."

Lloyd didn't remember ever telling this guy his name. But Yuan had that smug smile of a man who knew more than he let on. "Well, here I am," was all he said.

Yuan grinned slyly. "Sheena. The rheiards are ready. There is an exsphere for you waiting in the loading bay. Everything you need is there. We will meet you there in a few minutes."

Sheena raised an eyebrow, but slinked through the automatic door without a word.

"So now you're going to give me back my locket," Lloyd demanded.

Yuan sat down again, unfazed, unthreatened. "Yes, I will. But I think you might be interested in something else I have to give you."

"What?"

"Your father."

Lloyd took a painful breath trying to calm himself. Before he could say anything, Yuan continued. "If you ever want to see him alive again, you're going to have to make sure Sheena gets her job done."

Lloyd's hand wandered to his sword hilt. "What have you done with my dad? If you've done anything… and what job? What are you talking about?"

"Oh,  _I_ don't have him. Gods, no. He's too much of a hassle for me. I just know where he is. He and I are actually on the same side, you see, even if he doesn't understand it. So are you. If you want him back, you're going to have to go with Sheena."

"And do what?"

"Stop the Sylvaranti World Regeneration. Kill its Chosen."

Lloyd was silent for a few moments. "What?" he asked finally.

"Was I unclear? Go to Sylvarant and kill the Chosen."

"No," Lloyd replied, automatically. Then, "Why?"

"Explaining will take time. Time you don't have. Sheena's about to go."

Lloyd grimaced. He didn't want to kill anyone, and he certainly didn't have the skill to be an assassin. He imagined his classmates' faces as they looked at the Tower rising in the distance, the hope and celebration that must've overtaken all of Palmacosta at the appearance of their symbol of salvation, the first sign that the reign of Desians might come to an end. "I can't," he said.

"Of course you can. You will, if you ever want to see your father again."

"The Chosen hasn't done anything wrong—"

"Listen, Lloyd, the Chosen is doing  _everything_ wrong. The Chosen and the entire system that made her. But that's beside the point. This isn't about the Chosen. This is about your father."

"I…" Lloyd's hand slipped from his sword hilt. When he looked at Yuan's entwined fingers and self-satisfied simper, he knew the half-elf was telling the truth. But then his father…

"If you decline, I'm afraid you'll have to leave." Yuan stood. "To the north is Flanoir. It'll be hard going. You'll have to swim through the arctic waters, but I think you'll make it."

Lloyd hesitated. "Wait."

"The town isn't that bad, you know. You can make a life there, I suppose." Yuan gave him a look that said he was running out of time. Going once... going twice…

"Fine. Okay." Lloyd's hand fell back to his side and clenched into a fist. "Just give me back my thing."

"Of course." Yuan reached into a desk drawer and tossed him the locket, now without its chain. "Better hurry. Sylvarant awaits."

Lloyd didn't like the smile Yuan wore as he bid him farewell.

*

The rheiards looked a lot like the glider Virginia had built, and seemed to do the same thing in practice, but with one extra feature—they were the only thing that could go between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla. At least, that's what Sheena told him, and he didn't want to argue—he didn't feel like explaining to her the metaphysics of the Tower of Salvation, or the nature of his father's spell. He didn't understand enough to explain anyway.

The trip itself was eerie but not too trying. Traveling between the two worlds felt something like getting flattened and then blown up again like a balloon, but it didn't hurt that much. It was difficult for Lloyd to comprehend as it happened, and difficult for him to remember once it was over. It was just too bizarre.

They landed in the desert, next to what appeared to be a human ranch, but what turned out to be another rheiard loading dock—maybe the property of Yuan and his goons. Lloyd managed to maneuver the machine much better than he'd maneuvered Virginia's handmade prototype, but he spent about a half hour after their landing spitting up the sand that had puffed into his open mouth as he skidded to a halt.

"What a wasteland," Sheena muttered, searching the horizon for any sign of vegetation. "No life anywhere." Her voice quieted, cracking in the dry wind. She lowered her eyes, and for a moment looked as if the landscaped saddened her. "So little mana already…"

"It's a desert," Lloyd said. "You don't have deserts where you're from?"

"No. There's always something growing somewhere. Even lichens flourish in Flanoir."

"Well, we'd better set off to Triet." He ran his tongue along the top of his dry mouth, cringing at the taste of sand. "We probably don't have enough supplies to get across the desert, even with the rheiards."

"I don't think we should take them," Sheena said.

"Why not?"

"They're too conspicuous. The Chosen will be able to see us coming from miles away. Besides, we could be bothered by the… locals. They've probably never seen anything like them before."

Offense bubbled in Lloyd's stomach, but after a second of thought, he realized she was right. He had been so taken with the technology and architecture of the prospering world, he had nearly knocked over every dainty lady in Meltokio—and he was from Palmacosta, the hub of modern Sylvaranti civilization. He could only imagine the fit they'd throw in the boonies about a novel machine like a rheiard.

"All right," he said. "We can go on foot."

They left the rheiards in the shadow of the landing bay and set off toward the oasis of Triet in the distance. "I take it you've been here before," Sheena said.

"Just once, with my father."

"So you know the way around."

"I do, but I can't… I can't say where the Chosen is right now. She's from a little town north of here, but she's probably already set off on her journey."

"Yuan told me there was a seal in the desert, so we might as well start here."

"Might as well."

Lloyd followed her closely, hanging his head. The way they talked about catching up to the Chosen, he could almost believe that they were simply devotees, pilgrims, faithful and desperate to meet their savior. He knew he could focus his energies on tracking her down, but he didn't want to think about what they'd do when they actually found her.

When they reached the oasis town of Triet, it was well into the afternoon. "Hot as Efreet's molten balls," as the Palmacostan sailors used to say. Lloyd just wanted to find a cold drink and lie in the shade, but Sheena insisted they look around the town and ask about the Chosen. The innkeeper, the barmaids, the fruit sellers, the drummers in the town square and the boys and girls selling trinkets had nothing to say about the Chosen. It appeared that the savior of humankind had not shown her face in the town recently—at least not that anyone noticed. Sheena suggested the Chosen may have adopted a disguise, for her safety, but Lloyd doubted it. There was no human in this world who would ever want her dead—at least, no sane ones.

After a half day of useless inquiry, they decided to pass the oasis to ask the local fortuneteller if she had seen the Chosen. As soon as he smelled the fresh scent of the oasis, Lloyd sprinted down to the edge of the water like his ass was on fire. He was desperate to escape the stifling hot air, eager to take off his shoes and sink his feet into the water.

"What is it?" Sheena scrambled after him, sounding worried.

Things came rushing back. He stopped at the water's edge and stared into it for a good long minute, remembering. "This is where I learned to swim," he said. He removed his shoes, rolled up his pant legs and waded in to his knees. He let out a relieved sigh, letting the cool, spice-scented air drift past him.

"What are you doing?" Corinne peeped from Sheena's shoulder. "We've got a job to do!"

"Shh, Corinne." Sheena raised a hand and pet the little fox behind a twitching ear. "Let's rest for a few minutes. You don't know how tiring heat can be for humans."

"Whatever Sheena, you just want to go swimming."

"Guilty as charged."

*

"We shouldn't have gone swimming," Sheena muttered as they trekked through the desert.

"Tell me about it!" Corinne cried.

Lloyd thought it was all worth it. He was glad that they had waited to talk to the fortuneteller, since she promptly sent them on their way by informing them that the first seal had already been released, and that the Chosen's party was heading for Palmacosta as they spoke. Then she charged them a fortune for it ("That's why they're called  _fortune_ tellers _,_ " someone had told him once).

"There's only one way to Palmacosta, and it's over those mountains," Lloyd said as they walked. "And there's only one way over those mountains. If we hurry, we can catch them at Ossa Trail."

They walked wordlessly under white-blue skies. The silence of the desert cleared the chatter in Lloyd's head, and he had the time and space to catch up to the morality of it all. It was still difficult to think about what he might do when they finally caught up to the Chosen. If this world's Chosen was anything like Tethe'alla's, he might be able to throw a punch or two in her direction, but he wasn't sure if he could actually go through with assassination. There was also Yuan's threat to take into consideration: if he ever wanted to see his dad again, he would have to do this—or at least go along with it until he got a better lead on his father's condition.

They had to stop for the night under a windswept boulder. They decided not to build a fire, and instead scanned the horizon for light that may indicate another campsite. Maybe the Chosen was around here, maybe not. Maybe their target had decided to keep hidden and not build a fire either.

Sheena and Lloyd ate a cold meal in silence, until Lloyd's curiosity got the better of him. "Did Yuan give you the order to kill the Chosen?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I was issued a decree by the Tethe'allan monarchy. Yuan agreed to supply the necessary equipment."

"Why would Tethe'alla want Sylvarant's Chosen dead?"

"You know what happens when the Chosen completes the Regeneration, don't you?"

"Of course," Lloyd said. He'd been told mana would flow, crops would flourish, dry riverbeds would spring forth with life, and the Desians would disappear, allowing humankind to govern itself freely once again.

"Well, then you know there'll be an inflow of mana. That mana has to come from somewhere."

"And?"

" _And_  that somewhere is Tethe'alla. When Sylvarant prospers, Tethe'alla dwindles. And vice versa. If this world's regeneration is completed, mana will flow from Tethe'alla into Sylvarant, and my whole country starts circling the drain. Our crops will die, our forests will wilt, our people will suffer."

Lloyd thought for a moment about the mana shortages in Sylvarant, the starvation, the danger, the Desians. He tried to stop himself from gritting his teeth. He had never known about those consequences of the Regeneration. He wondered who did. Kratos, probably. "That's not fair at all," he muttered.

"It's not," Sheena sighed. "But that's the way it is."

"Why is it like that?"

"Don't ask me. I don't know. I'm just here to save my world."

Lloyd unpacked his bedroll and curled inside. "So what does Yuan have to do with any of this?"

Sheena lay down, staring at the stars. "I don't rightly know what he has to gain from this. Maybe money. Those rheiards cost a fortune. All I know is that he's well equipped and willing to do business. Flying machines, exspheres, technology, everything. Practically all of Tethe'alla is dependent on it, and Yuan charges us for all of it."

_And how does he know so much about my dad?_  Lloyd wanted to ask, but couldn't. He only turned on his other side and tried to go to sleep.

His father was in his mind as he closed his eyes. He could see the shadow of the man above him, bending against the stars, against the relentless Trieti sun. He could see Kratos, wet-haired, smiling, dropping his son into the cool oasis. Lloyd clung to him, desperately afraid, but his dad floated him on his back and told him to kick his legs. Lloyd gulped and protested, but eventually obeyed, swinging his arms.

"Don't let me go!" he screamed, gurgling water. "Don't let go!"

His father only laughed and did just that. And to Lloyd's surprise, he stayed afloat. He paddled desperately after his father, who moved through the water like a fish, always evading him.

"I'm a sea monster, Lloyd. I'm going to eat you."

"Stop it!"

"Swim for your life, little sailor."

"Stop!"

For a brief moment Lloyd thought he might indeed have to swim for his life, so he paddled desperately toward the shore. With his face half-submerged, his father swam after him like a wily predator. He dove under him, kicked off the bottom and came splashing up under Lloyd, catching him in his arms. Lloyd heard his gasps of panic turn quickly into laughs as his dad threw him up in the air, caught him again and carried him to shore. There was water all over him, dripping down his face—

And with a jolt Lloyd realized his cheeks were wet. He lifted his head and wiped his face, remembering where he was. He glanced up to find Corinne watching him silently. The little fox sat beside a sleeping Sheena, wordless. It didn't take its eyes off him as he lay back down, dried his cheeks, closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep.

*

"I saw your son today." Yuan didn't know if Kratos could hear him. Mithos had done a number on him and strung him up, arms spread, on the wall of one of the more isolated storage rooms on Derris-Kharlan. Gods above, it was a wonder he was still alive—but Yuan knew Mithos was careful. He couldn't let his seal with Origin die, or else it was all over. All three of them knew that. But it looked like Kratos, with his bloody head and limp body, wasn't knowing much of anything at all these days.

Yuan decided to continue anyway, to see if he could get a response. "Guess what he had with him? Flamberge."

He thought he saw a twitch move up Kratos' suspended arm.

"And a very sweet family portrait. I don't know how you managed to get all that to him, but he's alive and well, and looking for you. He's off to Sylvarant to kill the Chosen."

Kratos' eyes barely opened, but Yuan saw that he was listening. Yuan had also made sure, doubly, then triply, that Kratos would be the only one listening. He knew Derris Kharlan as well as anyone—and especially where its eyes and ears were. Mithos had done them a favor by stuffing Kratos in the back where no one went, and no one could hear.

"I'm sure you'd like me to kill you and all, but sadly you've gone and got yourself noticed. If I let you go now, or even if I finished you off, Mithos would know it was me. I suspect he already knows I've defected. He'll bring the hammer down on me soon enough. I guess after the Chosen dies. And with the Renegades gone, who will be your ally? Who will help you release the seal?"

Kratos seemed to have stopped paying attention, but Yuan didn't care. "If I were you, I'd hope that Lloyd gets his act together and puts you out of your misery."

At this point, Kratos remained unresponsive, but Yuan knew that he would internalize anything he heard involving Lloyd. It would just take time.


	6. The Chosen

"There they are," Sheena whispered. She motioned slowly, subtly, toward a small group of figures navigating the boulders around the entrance to Ossa Trail. Lloyd squinted; he counted three individuals, all light-haired, two tall and one not-so-tall. From this distance he couldn't really tell them apart. He supposed he'd be able to discern them when they got closer, but he'd like to have a good look at his target before he jumped out unannounced to kill her.

"We should probably buy some binoculars," he murmured. He glanced over his shoulder for Sheena, but she was already on her way down the hill. She crouched through the sparse underbrush of the Ossa hillside, quick and quiet. Lloyd swore under his breath and stumbled after her, desperately trying to keep the noise to a minimum. With each crack of a stick beneath his feet he worried a little more he might botch the whole operation, but Sheena didn't seem to notice him scrambling after her, making a mess of the mountainside. He dislodged rocks, uprooted saplings, sent pebbles tumbling down the slope, all the while cursing himself for making such a racket.

Lloyd barely caught up with Sheena when she sprang from the underbrush and into the group's path.

"Which one of you is the Chosen?" she demanded.

A sprightly girl with blonde hair smiled genially. "Oh, that would be me."

"Prepare to die."

Sheena launched at her just as Lloyd managed to disentangle himself from the bushes and stumble onto the road. The Chosen fell back in surprise, arms flailing, as Sheena blurred into a rush of jet-black hair and pink obi. Lloyd stepped after her, eyes locked on the flurry of her running feet, clutching the hilt of his sword.

He almost allowed himself to count on Sheena killing the Chosen before he had to. But evidently the gods, or someone perhaps a little more mundane, had a different idea.

Just as the Chosen scrambled away from her attacker, and before her companions could reach her to offer help, her arm swung out and a sharp click echoed throughout the small canyon. The mountain, or something beneath it, let out a pained, metallic moan, and just as Sheena crouched to spring the final short distance to her target, a hole appeared under her. She froze for a split second, looking from her feet, to the Chosen, to the antiquated lever she had triggered during her fall, and disappeared into the darkness.

Lloyd skidded to a halt at the edge of the hole, but it was not the fear of falling, or the shock of seeing his companion tumble into the mineshaft that petrified him in his tracks.

"Genis?" he called. As the Chosen pulled herself to her feet, Lloyd's old friend rushed out from behind her, something of a worried smile crossing his face.

"Lloyd?" Genis gaped in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Lloyd couldn't very easily tell him that he was going to assassinate the Chosen. "Well, I—"

"It's dangerous here!" Genis said. "Were you going after that lady?"

"Is she your friend?" the Chosen asked. "Do you suppose she's okay?" Lloyd would've expected the question to have more of an accusatory tone to it, but the way the Chosen inquired about the fate of her would-be assassin struck him as nothing but concerned.

"If you're with her, then you have five seconds to turn around and walk away." A silver-haired woman, tall and narrow-eyed, raised her staff in his direction. From the looks of her, she may have been Genis' older sister.

Genis turned to the woman and lay a hand on her arm. "Raine, wait."

_Raine?_  Lloyd bit his lip. This was getting a little too strange. His brain chugged into overdrive, trying to guess if this was the same Raine from Virginia's narrative, if Raine was a common name, if perhaps he should stop distracting himself and worry about the task at hand… Overwhelmed, he wondered if he had suddenly gotten himself embroiled in something he couldn't handle. He looked from Raine's incredulous face to Genis' worried one, to the Chosen's frown of kind concern.  _Shit, I can't do this,_  he thought, and instead of drawing his sword and cutting down this naive Chosen where she stood, he jumped down after Sheena into the dark safety of the mineshaft. He slid to the dusty bottom and glanced up at the dull rectangle of light above him. A few shadows danced through the gloom, but no one followed him down. He waited for a few seconds, eyes never leaving the grey glow of the mineshaft entrance. He heard no noises, and after a while even the shadows retreated and the mine lay still, so he turned his thoughts and eyes from the Chosen above him and concerned himself with Sheena.

He found her lying facedown in the darkness. Corinne nuzzled and pawed at the crook of her elbow, muttering to her to wake up. Lloyd knelt beside the little fox and hoisted its owner onto his back. She was altogether lighter than he expected, but he still bent with the effort of hoisting her limp body. Back aching, he started what would no doubt be a long and possibly hopeless search for an exit.

The only guide Lloyd had was the soft tinkling of Corinne's decorative bell. When he left the light of the open shaft, he could see nothing but the expansive darkness of the tunnels, hear nothing but Sheena's labored breathing and the sounds of the little fox as it padded ahead of him.

"I smell fresh air," Corinne said. "It's faint, but follow me. I might be able to lead you out."

Lloyd briefly considered whether Corinne was going to lead him to a pit or other such trap just out of spite, but with Sheena on his back, he discarded the idea. The little fox may not like him much, but it adored the summoner, so it wouldn't sacrifice her just to screw with him. He followed the spirit as best he could, tripping over dislodged rocks, kicking up dust and occasionally bumping into an abandoned cart or other machine he could not identify in the darkness.

He did not know how long he'd been wandering when Sheena began to stir on his back.

"Wait," he called to Corinne, and set Sheena down against the wall of the tunnel. She groaned and muttered for a bit, voice raspy. When he touched her cheek, he heard her suck air in through her nose, like she was lazily waking up after a long, restful sleep.

"What the hell?" she said. "Why can't I see?"

"Because it's dark," Lloyd answered. "You fell down a mineshaft."

"Oh good, I thought I went blind for a moment. I suppose I won't know for sure until we get out of here."

"Yeah. I may be blind too, for all I can see."

He heard Sheena struggle to her feet. "Did you kill the Chosen?"

Lloyd shook his head uselessly in the dark. "No. I came to help you instead." He smiled at her, even though she could not see it. "'Prepare to die?' Who  _says_  that, Sheena? Maybe you would've gotten the Chosen if you hadn't warned her before you struck."

She sighed and groped for his arm. "I guess I thought it would go better than that. That I would be…"

"Cooler?" he offered.

"Shut up." She gripped his arm and he held still as she used it to pull herself to her feet. "Where's Corinne?"

"I'm here, Sheena. Follow me, I'll lead us out."

The two of them stumbled clumsily but steadily after the little fox. Blind and tired, they had to stop occasionally to cough up the dust they'd disturbed. It seemed no one had used this tunnel in a long, long time.

Lloyd could swear that he was going nowhere, that they had been walking endlessly in the ancient circular maze of this mineshaft, but soon he spied a tiny crack of light in the distance. Corinne crawled up to it and examined it, bell chiming excitedly.

"That looks a little small for us," Sheena sighed as Corinne burrowed through.

"Kick just above it," the fox called back. Its little voice was not too heavily muffled by the wall—perhaps it was not as thick as it looked.

"What?"

"Just do it."

In the dim light Lloyd could see Sheena shrug and take a few steps back. She sprang forward, launching off one leg and extending the other, and kicked above the crack. As her foot made contact, a massive wooden creak echoed down the shaft. The whole wall fell away with a terrible groan and bright light flooded his vision.

"I guess we're out," Sheena said, walking over the remains of what was once a large door.

"No sign of them," Lloyd said, shielding his eyes and looking around.

"I'm in no state to take 'em out anyway," Sheena said, chuckling. "And neither are you."

Lloyd looked down at himself, covered in dirt and soot, and at Sheena, who was even worse—she also had a dried stream of blood from her forehead to her chin. She looked so filthy and ridiculous Lloyd had to laugh.

"We should find a safe place, rest up, and follow them," Sheena said. "Or we could find out where the next seal is and beat them to it."

"Good luck with that," Lloyd answered. "No one really knows where they are. It's a miracle they found the first one so fast."

"Huh. In Tethe'alla the locations of the elemental seals are common knowledge."

"Well, that's because you have a whole research institute for them. We can't afford that sort of thing here."

"Anyway, we should get out of here. They've probably long gone. Gods," she looked over herself and smiled. "Or worse, they're on their way down right now. An assassin getting caught in this state of disarray would be pretty embarrassing. If anyone back home found out, I'd never live it down."

*

Lloyd was back on his own turf.

He had come and gone from Palmacosta so many times, it was almost second nature for him. It almost felt as if he were merely returning for the school year, and he found his feet instinctively heading toward the Academy. He had to remind himself that it was the wrong season, and he just happened to have an otherworldly assassin in tow rather than his overprotective father. Other than that, things were as they'd always been—sailors shouting to one another across the docks, fisherwomen and their kids piling up their catch, schoolchildren out of uniform running amok. A few Desians lounged in the shadows of the city, but few paid them any mind—after all, word had it that Magnius had reached his monthly quota. These visitors would not pluck unsuspecting victims from the streets, but the populace, including Lloyd and Sheena, still steered well clear of them.

He had hoped to head the Chosen off while she was still in the city, but she always seemed to be a step ahead of him. He learned from a friendly but toothless sailor that the flaxen-haired girl and her party had already left Palmacosta and were on their way across the continent (or at least that's what he gathered through the man's nearly incomprehensible lisp). It wasn't suspicious for a local boy like him to inquire about the Chosen's visit to his town, and a few familiar faces let him know in as much detail as possible where they had seen the Chosen, and where she was headed. From the stories he got, it appeared that she had gone in several different directions at once—to Hakenosia, to Thoda, back across the ocean to Izoold, that she was still in the city, praying at the temple. He could only confirm the latter was untrue when he visited the church himself and found it empty.

He and Sheena left Palmacosta as quickly as they had come (which was a damn shame, since Lloyd could've gone for a good meal or two at some old haunts). Before he could blink, they were again sleeping on the ground under the cloudy sky, eating dehydrated Tethe'allan rations and shaking stones out of their boots. On the way across the southern continent, Lloyd could not help thinking about Genis and his sister, about the weird solicitude the Chosen had shown toward the woman who'd tried to kill her.

He wondered if he would be able to justify his actions to his old schoolmate. He could always argue that the salvation of Tethe'alla depended on the success of this mission, but then again, it would be an irrevocable betrayal of his home world. Not that Sylvarant had been that kind to him; apart from Palmacosta, most of it was wilderness, rural towns and monsters. Not to mention the Desians, who crawled all over it like termites on a rotting log. Perhaps Sylvarant was too far-gone to be saved, with the sorry state it was in. Besides, allowing the Chosen to succeed may rid the world of Desians, but they'd just crop up in Tethe'alla, since according to Sheena, the respective declines and prosperities of the two worlds were mirrored. He wondered if Genis would buy it, or if he would accuse Lloyd of being insane. Everyone in Sylvarant thought Tethe'alla was just a myth, after all. It would not surprise him to learn Genis would hate him for choosing one world over the other—moreover choosing the world that everyone thought didn't even exist.

There was something irreparably unfair about the whole system—but Lloyd didn't know how to fix it. All he knew was that in order to get his father back, in order to get some answers about that damnable Tower and the angels inside, he would have to follow Sheena. He was not sure if he would have the courage to thrust his sword through the Chosen, with her big eyes and kind smile, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. In truth, he didn't want the Chosen to die—he didn't want anyone to die, but he had so little control. If only he could be a little more powerful, a little more clear on his path, then he might be able to do some good.

But he stayed with Sheena, who, in her silent stoicism, seemed to also have her reservations about her assigned mission. Neither of them broached the subject—they simply followed the Chosen, that well-intentioned young girl only doing her job like the rest of them.

They tracked her across the continent, always a few days behind (Sheena figured since they had revealed their intentions, the Chosen took the necessary precautions to evade them). But after stopping more than a few strangers and inquiring about the her whereabouts, they managed to track her all the way to Thoda Geyser. Strangely enough, it may have been the one place in the world Lloyd had never visited with his father. He counted that as an asset; the fewer bad or confusing memories associated with any place, the better.

"What are they doing?" Lloyd muttered, crouching a safe distance from the geyser. He and Sheena had perched themselves on an outcropping high above the tourist walkway, where they could get a good view of the surrounding area, and the Chosen's party.

"Lemme see those," Sheena grabbed the binoculars. "They—there's a bridge. They're going over the geyser."

"This must be the seal."

"We should follow them inside—wait. The bridge is… it disappeared."

"Figures," Lloyd sighed. "We should go down there and watch."

"No, we shouldn't. That would be suspicious as hell."

"Oh, like people with binoculars are suspicious in a sightseeing area!" Lloyd said. "Should we wait for them at the entrance until they come out?"

"There are far too many people here. Not only will they probably come to the aid of their Chosen One, well, there are kids there."

It wasn't like kids in Sylvarant were unaccustomed to violence. Many of them had seen relatives beaten and kidnapped by Desians—especially Palmacostan kids. But Lloyd found himself agreeing with Sheena; if there was anything he didn't want to do, it was resemble Desians in word or deed. So they merely waited, watching the geysers, and the people, and one particularly badly-behaved dog that seemed to delight in snapping at anyone who dared to come near him.

Sheena and Lloyd relaxed a bit—the day was warm and sunny, and the cool breeze from the ocean was particularly refreshing. They took turns laying their heads down and staring into the cloudless sky—always one had to keep an eye locked on the entrance to what they now knew was the water seal.

"I find it interesting that there are summon spirits in this world," Sheena said.

"Have you met any from here?" Lloyd asked, watching the bad dog chase its tail through the binoculars.

"No, but as a Tethe'allan summoner, it's part of my education to know all of the spirits, in this world and mine."

"Have you made pacts with any?"

Sheena began to sweat. "Well, um, there's Corinne. A man-made one. Um. We kind of made the pact… together."

"Sheena rescued me from the Research Institute," Corinne chimed in.

"You mean, you weren't supposed to come with us to Sylvarant?" Lloyd asked the fox.

"Of course not. They needed me for experiments."

"Corinne. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to," Sheena patted the little fox on the head.

"But it's true, Sheena. If it weren't for you…"

"They're coming," Lloyd said. He glanced through the binoculars again, at the entrance to the seal. Three people emerged, filthy and exhausted. Genis, looking relieved but a little worried, Raine, grim but determined, and the Chosen herself, radiant as always. Lloyd stared at her lovely, round face, her indomitable smile, and couldn't help but feel as if he truly was looking upon something holy. Perhaps that was one reason the Chosen was such an inspirational figure; she was so worthy of her title that she roused awe in even the most irreligious of people.

The dog that had snapped at so many passers-by turned on her as she walked past. But she only reached out a hand, despite her protective companions, and patted the dog on the head. It stopped growling, and instead sat down, lowered its hackles, and began to lick her fingers. She grinned, stroking the dog's ears, and knelt down to its level. The dog's owner pounced forward to grab his animal and apologize, but the canine only licked the Chosen's face, wagging its tail. She laughed, and slowly turned her head. Purposefully, perhaps too intentionally, she raised her eyes right to Lloyd's hiding spot.

He stopped breathing. She seemed to look straight through his binoculars and into his eyes, and their gazes locked for an intense, seemingly infinite moment. She continued smiling, raised a hand as if to greet him, stood up and moved on, leaving a perfectly calm, contented dog in her wake.

*

Over the next few days, as they followed their target north toward Hakenosia Peak, Lloyd couldn't bring himself to tell Sheena that the Chosen had seen them. She had seen them, and she had not cared. She had only smiled.

Maybe she had some sort of trick up her sleeve. Maybe she had a secret weapon and was tempting them to just try to kill her. But somehow he knew it wasn't true. He thought of her almost every second—her gentleness, her dutiful smile, and he secretly knew he couldn't kill her. He just couldn't. He still wasn't sure if he could stop Sheena, though. Despite her reservations, she was determined to save her world.

He tore himself apart, silently, while he followed the assassin over the peak and to the north. He imagined himself killing the Chosen, and reeled at the thought. He'd never killed anyone before, but he had seen his father do it. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't glamorous, as tales of Mithos the Hero would attest. But neither was decay. The failing crops, the lack of mana, the Desians—all the terrible things that would befall Tethe'alla—those weren't pretty either. And then there was the problem with his father. What if he was already dead? What if this was all for an empty promise…

Lloyd forced the thoughts from his head; the exchanges, the sacrifices, the imbalance the two worlds were forced to endure. There was nothing he could do to change it, at least not right now, not until he found his dad again and asked him a few questions.

In the meantime, he read Virginia's diary. Extensive traveling and Sheena's taciturnity had afforded him the luxury of taking some time to concentrate on it. And the further he got, the surer he became that Raine was Virginia's Raine, and Genis was her second child. The only problem he had with this theory was that it would mean they had mixed blood—an elven mother and a human father. But as far as he knew, Genis was a full-blooded, bona fide, magic-blooded elf. It said so right in the Palmacosta Academy's files.

Lloyd had a hard time believing Genis, honest, hard-working, scholarly Genis, would ever lie to the officials at the Academy about his heritage. But if it were true, Lloyd could not exactly blame him. Half-elven blood in Sylvarant came with all the unwanted baggage of Desianhood, unfair as that was. But if it was bad here, it was even worse in Tethe'alla. Lloyd had not yet arrived at the passage that illustrated travel between the two worlds, but he assumed Virginia had been the one to send them away. Her guilty mutterings about regret and abandonment had told him as much. He didn't know if she had made the right choice, in the end—she had sent her children to a world where the racial hierarchy had reversed, but had condemned them to live in a world plagued with disease, poverty, and mana shortages. Lloyd wondered if she had known, if she had weighed all of the options and had still decided they were better off in the declining world.

Lloyd sped on through the pages as fast as his semi-literate brain could carry him, impatient to arrive at the passages that would tell him more about the mysterious links between the two worlds. His father had mentioned three that he knew of, one of which was the Tower of Salvation. Maybe Virginia knew about other options, or even used one of them to send her children to the other world. Maybe she even used the Tower.

Ever since Lloyd and Sheena had passed over Hakenosia Peak, the Tower of Salvation loomed on the horizon. Lloyd avoided looking at it. He did not need such an ostentatious reminder of his own ineptitude lingering over him.

Martel above, if only he had been stronger, if only he had been a little smarter, a little faster, he may have been able to escape that damn Tower with his dad. If only he'd listened, if only… Gods, here he was, wallowing in self-pity when the entire world—both worlds—were threatened with decline and death. He could turn himself into a scapegoat all he wanted, blame himself all he wanted, but that would change nothing. None of this was his fault, at least not directly; the fate of the worlds, the Desians, the army of angels that attacked his father. If there was someone to blame, for anything, or for everything, it was that mysterious, cold-eyed stranger that had captured, and probably killed, his father.

When they arrived in Luin, a small, orderly town on a lakeside (and one of Lloyd's favorites to visit during the holiday), he spent a good portion of their first day staring out the inn's window, thinking of Virginia, of revenge, of his father. He and Sheena had checked in as a newlywed couple from Asgard, so they were confident they would be courteously left alone. Lloyd suspected there was a seal around here, so this wasn't a bad place to lie in wait for word of the Chosen. The town was tranquil and the food was good, so he had no problem with it. Sheena, however, was itching to get her job done and get back home.

"I'm going out," she said almost immediately after they entered their room. Their fake identity had necessitated only having one bed, but Lloyd didn't mind sleeping on the floor. He had built himself a little nest with his dirty clothes and decided to take a nap while Sheena was gone, presumably searching for clues.

After a few hours of collecting rumors of the Chosen's whereabouts, Sheena burst through their door, panicked. "She's in Asgard," she said.

"That's not surprising," Lloyd answered.

"The next seal is in the Balacruf Mausoleum. We can catch her there. It's not like Thoda—we'll be able to corner her without an audience."

Lloyd jumped up, packed his things, but his head was spinning. This was it, he was going to finish the job... He forced his inner dialogue, his regrets and reservations, to shut down while he concentrated on packing his things and getting out of Luin.

Within the hour, he, Sheena and Corinne marched out of town, due south. It didn't matter that the sun would set in only a few hours; Sheena seemed determined to find the Chosen and kill her this time. She said they would walk all night if it came down to it. When they reached the crest of a large hill outside of town, Lloyd bent over to catch his breath. From the corner of his eye, he saw a hazy outline of the town they had just left. He stood, squinting, and bit his lip. Something was wrong. He fumbled for his binoculars and raised them to his eyes. As he did, the sharp scent of new smoke met his nostrils.

"Sheena," he called. "Sheena!"

"What?"

"Desians. Look." He handed her the binoculars. Black smoke rose from Luin's central plaza, and a small flicker of fire spread outward from the square. He thought he could hear screams, even from this far away, but he knew he probably imagined them. Sheena grit her teeth and swore, surveying the town. He knew she had learned a bit about the Desians, and the havoc they wrought—he had told her the stories.

Sheena just dropped the binoculars and headed down the far side of the hill.

"Where are you going?" Lloyd shouted.

"I'm going to kill the Chosen," she answered. "That is my mission, that is my top priority."

"Sheena, Luin is on fire! They're going to kill half the town and enslave the rest!"

She grimaced. "And if I fail, they'll do exactly that to  _my_ town. This is the only chance I'll get to save my world."

"How can you even talk about saving the world when you can't even save the people right in front of you?" Lloyd stared at her a moment, mouth pulled into a taut scowl. She did not move, so he took a deep breath and turned back toward Luin. "We have to help them. The Chosen will still be there when we're done." He sprinted down the hill, toward the burning town, not bothering to look behind him.

"Lloyd, wait!" Sheena called. "Oh, hell." She stood at the crest of the hill for a moment before running after him, Corinne trailing close behind.


	7. Luin

By the time Lloyd and Sheena burst onto Luin's cobblestone streets, half the town was alight and all of it was teeming with Desians. He had both blades drawn and was ready to throw himself at the nearest enemy, but Sheena gripped his sleeve and tugged him back into the safety of the shadows. She shoved him behind her and they crept along a narrow alley, peering out into the main street.

A group of soldiers were rounding up what looked to be schoolgirls no more than twelve. One of the girls had grabbed a shovel and swung it at the faces of her attackers, but the Desians just scoffed at her effort. She brandished it wildly, screaming insults, taunts, threats, but a soldier easily swatted her weapon aside. In a flash of silver, his machete swiped through the shovel's handle and into the girl's arm.

When the schoolgirl yelped and fell to her knees, anger burst from Lloyd's gut outward. His hand gripped his sword so tight it numbed, his exsphere warmed at the prospect of violence, and he couldn't keep himself from giving in. "Wait, don't—" Sheena hissed, but he was already moving. Lloyd sprang from his hiding place, sprinted toward the group, and sliced the nearest Desian through the middle.

He managed to take out two more before the others noticed that a boy with an oversized red sword had appeared from nowhere to cut them down. They turned on him, and the schoolgirls, too smart to waste the opportunity, dashed away. In a flurry of skirts and ponytails, they fled the scene, sprinting into the shadows on scuffed leather shoes.

Lloyd breathed a sigh of relief when the girls disappeared from his vision. Now all he had to deal with was the problem of being hopelessly outnumbered.

His father had trained him well enough. With his newly acquired though decidedly ancient sword, he parried and swung just like his father taught him. He knew he could manage to keep one or two of the soldiers at bay, but for each one he fought off, another replaced it, swarming around him like a bunch of metal, faceless bees. It wasn't long before he found himself on his knees, raising the sword only to stave off the dozens of blows that came down on him.  _Hell, Lloyd, you can't get killed by a bunch of lackeys,_  he screamed to himself, rapidly losing hope.

In his moment of desperation, a faint glow caught his eye from his raised hand, and after a fraction of a second of confusion, he realized it was his exsphere. He felt a surge of warmth burst from his palm, and strength rolled through his veins, around his heart and out his muscles. He grunted, lifted himself from his knees, and swung upward with such force his blade almost left a whitish glow in its wake. The Desians backed off momentarily, discouraged by his sudden show of power, and Lloyd struggled to his feet, hand burning, breath ragged. Lloyd welcomed the exsphere's help; he almost enjoyed the sensation coursing through his arms, but he was still outnumbered, and unsure if the little rock on his hand could truly save him.

Then Sheena was there, seemingly out of nowhere, spinning what looked to be a deck of cards in her hands. She flipped gray paper in her fingers, lunging forward, and a burst of black smoke engulfed their attackers. When Lloyd struggled upright and the smoke finally cleared, there were nine dead Desians at their feet, charred to a crisp. Sheena and Lloyd remained unburnt and unharmed.

"What the hell was that?" Lloyd asked. He stood in such shock he barely remembered to flick the blood from his sword before he trotted up to her.

"Family secret," she replied, panting.

"Well, keep that up, and Luin could be saved."

"Yeah," she answered. Her eyes wandered to her feet, and she wore a frown that told him she wasn't quite convinced.

Lloyd lowered his sword, exsphere pulsating, and decided that one way or another he'd convince her. They had cleared this street of Desians, but he could still hear a struggle in the direction of the town square. He motioned to Sheena and ran down the main street, through the red glow of fires and the thick billows of grey smoke. When they burst into the square, Lloyd saw most of the residents of Luin had gathered by the fountain. He didn't know if they had decided to take refuge there in the vain hope that they could find safety in numbers, or if the Desians had herded them there for roundup. Either way, Lloyd saw hundreds of people, all jostling, screaming, prodded from all sides with Desian machetes. He didn't know if he could possibly save all of them, but the glow and heat from his exsphere told him he might as well try.

"Wait, Lloyd!" he heard Sheena yell after him as he jumped on the nearest Desian. He finished him off and rounded on the next one, who was already swinging his spear at him. Lloyd parried uncertainly, but managed to slide under the brunt of the strike and slice through the man's exposed leg. He whipped his head around to see his small effort had pierced a hole in the Desians' tight fence circling the square. Townspeople began to leak out, avoiding the remaining guards, and they scattered to safety. A few dozen townsfolk managed to escape before the Desians regained control of the crowd. From the corner of his eye Lloyd could spy a Desian guard motioning for his comrades to pursue these two mysterious armed travelers hoping to unravel their plans.

As more soldiers appeared seemingly from nowhere, Lloyd was driven back to the edge of the square, exsphere glowing, muscles shaking, cursing his decision to jump in the fray without thinking. Again, Sheena came to his rescue.

"I'm sorry, grandpa," she said quietly before raising her cards high over her head. White light blanketed the scene for a split-second, and then, from the hazy gleam, a monster emerged.

Lloyd couldn't help but scream in surprise. The floating, long-fingered thing bore down on the Desians, stabbing, slashing, and swiping with its massive claws. Mercifully, it avoided the townspeople, instead mowing down as many Desians as it could. It was a frantic and confusing spectacle; bloodstained helmets flying from shoulders, armored soldiers scrambling helplessly away from the black claws of the creature, weapons clattering to the ground with arms still clutching them.

After a few minutes of absolute carnage, nothing of which Lloyd completely understood, the Desians estimated their chances of taking Luin were simply not good, and, to the entire town's delight, called a retreat.

Sheena's death-monster pursued the Desians to the edge of town, hacking and slashing with its knife-like fingers. When even the outskirts of Luin were cleared of the menace, the monster floated quietly back to its master, faceless, calm and benign. In full view of the terrified townspeople, she bowed deeply to the creature. It nodded and disappeared in a puff of grey smoke.

"Another family secret?" Lloyd muttered. He realized nearly the entire town was staring at them now, but whether it was with fear or awe, or a little of both, he couldn't tell.

"It was meant for the Chosen," Sheena whispered.

A man who looked to be in charge separated himself from the crowd and approached them. "Strangers," he said solemnly. "I don't know what that monster was, but it saved us today—you saved us today. And for that I thank you. You can stay here for the night, and we'll feed you."

Lloyd and Sheena looked at each other and smiled weakly. In that moment, when they glanced at each other's soiled faces and tired eyes, a tacit agreement rose between them that the assassination of the Chosen could wait, for now. Rest took precedent.

But they didn't rest. Instead, they spent the evening tallying up the dead, the missing, and the injured. Seventeen dead, sixty-seven when you counted fallen Desians. Forty injured, twenty-three missing. Lloyd helped carry the dead and injured to the right places, bind wounds, administer medicine, and altogether make himself handy.

He was wrapping a civilian's lacerated leg when one of the schoolgirls he had rescued, the one with the shovel, sat down opposite him. "Thank you," she said. He noticed there was a spatter of blood on her cheek.

"I did what I could," he answered. The villager Lloyd tended squeaked as he tightened the gauze on her ankle.

"They took my older brother."

"I'm sorry."

"Teach me to fight."

Lloyd smiled. Many Sylvaranti kids, especially those who lived near human ranches, either were taught to fight or wanted to learn. When it came down to it, though, there wasn't much they could do to protect their townships and families. There were too many Desians, too well-trained and too well-armed. There was certainly no way a child could make a difference, even if she was proficient with a weapon.

He put an arm on hers, accidentally wiping some blood on her sleeve. "I can't. I'm sorry. But I promise, if they come back, I'll defend you."

Nobody had any doubt that they would come back. Perhaps in a day, perhaps a week. However long it took them to regroup, resupply and relaunch an attack, they would. The people of Luin would have to fortify the town, devise a defense and escape plan, keep the injured and the incapable in a safe place, arm all able bodies… and Lloyd didn't know how much time they had. Not enough, probably.

"That's some exsphere you have there," Sheena told him as they helped reinforce the doors to the Church of Martel, which would serve as the town's stronghold.

"Yeah," Lloyd answered vaguely.

"Did the Renegades give one to you, too?"

"Oh. No, I found this one."

"Where could you find one like that?" Sheena seemed genuinely interested, but Lloyd didn't really want to talk about it at that particular moment.

"It's a family secret."

"Fair enough," Sheena smirked.

She disappeared when she was asked to help make sure there were enough boats to ferry survivors across the lake should an evacuation be necessary, and she and Lloyd didn't speak again until late that night, over some midnight tea.

He and Sheena made camp in the mayor's house. They tried to avoid the inn, where they may be recognized as "that married couple," and the last thing they needed after such a day was inquisitions about their identities. Right now most of the town was not concerned with the secret lives of the two travelers that had saved them; they were more preoccupied with preparations for the next Desian invasion.

"I didn't know things were so bad here," Sheena said.

"What do you mean?" Lloyd asked, swirling more sugar than he needed in his tea.

"I mean the Desians. It's like Sylvarant is always at war."

Lloyd shrugged. "Some towns have peace treaties with them. They supply some slaves, the Desians supply security to the town." Lloyd had had some friends and acquaintances taken away to the ranch when he lived in Palmacosta, and he was familiar with the pain of losing people, and the hopelessness of a town being sucked dry. But he didn't know which was worse: being at the mercy of the Desians, or being complicit in their cruelty. Either way, there was no winning, because people here had no power. Not like they had in Tethe'alla, with their technology and military prowess.

"I guess this is why the Regeneration gives so many people hope," Sheena continued. "Tethe'alla used to have something like Desians, hundreds of years ago. There are a few references to them in old texts of the period. The books also said the success of our Chosen banished them from our world." She stared into her swirling tea. Lloyd briefly considered asking her if she was considering abandoning her mission to assassinate the Chosen, but her moment of sympathy passed. "I have to do everything I can to make sure my world doesn't end up the same way."

Lloyd recognized the tone of determination in her voice, but he also had a nagging suspicion that after seeing what she'd seen here, she didn't exactly want to condemn Sylvarant, either. On either side of this unbalanced system there were people suffering, no matter what. Her mission would not change that. In a hundred years, maybe less, a new Chosen would be born in Sylvarant and Tethe'alla would have to send another assassin to keep the mana on their own side. And another. And another.

Sheena seemed to sense what he was thinking, and excused herself before he could bring the topic up in conversation. She slinked back into the shadows, telling Lloyd to have a good sleep, and disappeared.

Lloyd settled down in one of the many guest rooms—it had been a long time since he'd had a soft bed, a  _truly_  soft bed. Even the bunks at the academy were a little lumpy, prone to bedbugs, and smelled of saltwater like everything else in Palmacosta. He removed his clothes and climbed under the sheets, still smelling of smoke and blood, though he'd washed at least twice that evening. He folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, where the shadows of the windy trees outside cast scenes of assassination. He saw a light-haired girl with a wide smile, calming a dog, praying; he meditated on her smile, her grit, and her profound aura of innocence. He wondered if she knew there was another world, a world opposite hers, that she would destroy if she saved her own. Maybe she was struggling in the same way as Sheena, but was better at hiding it. Either way, she and Sheena, and Lloyd—and everyone, come to think of it—were so deeply embroiled in this world of injustice and savagery that there may not be anything they could do about it.

It was the kind of thought that could keep Lloyd up all night seething, but this night, after all his hard work on Luin, he fell easily to sleep.

*

It was less than a week before the Desians attacked again. This time, they brought twice as many soldiers, better weaponry, and three massive caged vehicles, presumably for carrying the townspeople back to the ranch. It was obvious now that this was about more than securing a decent amount of new workers. This sort of cruel excess was clearly, and dishearteningly, about revenge. Lloyd, standing on a rooftop with Sheena and surveying the landscape with his trusty binoculars, immediately knew evacuations were in order.

"Do you have another one of those… monster-things?" he asked Sheena.

"Yes."

"We're gonna need it. This doesn't look good."

Corinne had been silent about the issue of Sheena using all of her summoned monsters for this particular quest instead of for their intended purpose, but Lloyd could tell the fox was inwardly fidgeting about it. Lloyd knew both of them were concerned for their world, and they were throwing out their best weaponry to save the place they were assigned to destroy.

He supposed now wasn't the time to distract himself thinking about such circular dilemmas. He and Sheena made their way down to the street, where those who could not fight were either holing themselves up in the Church of Martel or stumbling onto the rowboats that would take them across the lake to safety.

Lloyd and Sheena met in the town square with the other citizens taking up arms. Half these people looked too young to defend themselves or their town, a quarter too old, and the rest untrained and weak. They were a community of fishermen and farmers, and their weapons of choice seemed to be pitchforks, fishing spears, decorative swords that had rusted too long on the wall, and in one familiar schoolgirl's case, a shovel. Lloyd was able to spy her among her armed comrades, wide-eyed but wearing a determined scowl. He wished he could tell her to get on the boat with the other kids, to save herself, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to convince her. Besides, who was he to tell her she couldn't fight for her loved ones, even if it was hopeless? It was something his father would've done to him—forced him on one of the boats, denied him the opportunity to defend those he held close. He was determined not to turn out like his father: mistrustful, cold and uncompromising.

Again, Lloyd found himself thinking too hard when he should be focusing on what was right in front of him: in this case, a horde of Desians, bloodthirsty and fully armed, marching down Luin's main street. He drew his sword and his exsphere glowed warmly, as if in anticipation. The power radiating from it filled him with assurance and strength, and when he strode toward the incoming Desians, he felt as ready as ever. As he raised his sword, a piercing white light engulfed the square, and another long-fingered monster sprang from Sheena's cards. It flew toward the Desians, raking its claws against the stone street almost joyously. Lloyd smiled and followed the monster into the fray.

The citizens of Luin were untrained, disorganized, and altogether poor soldiers, but they were brave, braver than Lloyd had supposed. One by one, as expected, they were beaten down and dragged off, or else incapacitated and abandoned to bleed on the street. But they never seemed to give up. When one citizen watched his or her compatriot fall, the Desian responsible for it would no doubt receive a spear to the face or a club to the back of the head.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lloyd spied the schoolgirl with the shovel, now disarmed and being dragged off by her hair. She kicked and screamed, refusing to give up, and managed to at least give the Desians kidnapping her a hard time. They dragged her down a street away from the main square, and when Lloyd cut down his current opponent, he ran after them. His exsphere pulsed, thirsty for action, and he was more than willing to oblige.

He sprinted toward the three Desians and the struggling schoolgirl, piercing the nearest one through the stomach before turning on the other two. They dropped the girl and raised their weapons, stepping toward him. Evidently thinking that getting rescued twice by the same person too embarrassing to let slide, the girl refused to run this time. She stole the dead Desian's sword and jumped up beside Lloyd.

Her determination encouraged him. She might not be good, or skilled, or even very strong, but if she kept up with this kind of resolve, she would be of some use. Together, they took on the last two Desians, Lloyd bearing down on one, the schoolgirl, through sheer rage, holding her own against the other. Perhaps discouraged by the sudden display of tenacity, the Desians stumbled back, parries weakening, until Lloyd managed to finish his off. Beside him, the girl struggled to disarm her opponent, so Lloyd stepped in and did it for her. He let her have the privilege of landing the final blow.

He watched the schoolgirl stick the Desian through the neck with a shaky cry. She pulled the sword back, panting, eyes wide at what she had done. Lloyd gave her an encouraging smile and turned his attention to opponents in the distance, reminding himself and the girl that their job was not done.

Right when he started toward the main square, hope rising, he felt something blunt and powerful strike his back. A burning ache spread through him and his legs went limp. He heard the schoolgirl scream as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, dropping his sword with a clang. Something hit him again, harder this time, right between his shoulder blades. His lungs pushed out the last of his air and his head swirled.

Between the anxious screams of the girl, he could hear a celebratory whoop from whoever hit him. His body went completely limp, and he could only lie there as the Desians trampled over him to the girl, who had retreated beyond his field of vision. He heard several cries, several clangs, and then silence. He could not rise, he couldn't speak, he could do nothing as hands wrapped round his ankles and tugged. He was dragged across a dozen feet of cobblestone before, racked with pain, he passed out.

*

Sheena was the only one left. The other people of Luin had either died, been taken, or had escaped by boat. Those locked up in the presumably safe Church of Martel were rounded up and sent off to the ranch. Even her beloved shikigami, a master of death, had fled into the next world following a barrage of gunfire. Sheena didn't know why the Desians had left her behind—maybe she was too injured to be of use, maybe they hadn't seen her—she didn't care enough to think too deeply about it. All she knew was that she was alone, and that she was about to die.

She sat against Luin's iconic fountain, now a wet pile of rubble, and cupped her wounds. Corinne fidgeted beside her, frantic.

"Sheena, don't die," the little fox whined. "Stay here, I'll look for Lloyd."

_I should've just gone after the Chosen,_  she thought. _I should've never got mixed up in this. Why'd I listen to Lloyd about saving the town? That damn stupid kid. He knew better than me that this place was totally screwed._

Sheena knew that it wasn't the right time to think about that sort of thing. She had done what she had done. She had done what she knew was right. And she had paid the steep price for it. Perhaps this world wasn't meant to die. Perhaps…

She slipped in and out of consciousness, in a haze of pain. She thought she saw angels, or relatives, or whoever was waiting beyond those cloudy gates to welcome her home, slowly coming toward her, nothing but silhouettes in the mist…

And all of a sudden, the girl she had sworn to kill was hovering over her like a specter. Her big blue eyes were wide and wet, and she wore the most solicitous frown Sheena had ever seen. She knew she should scramble for her knife, somewhere in the dirt, and drive it through the Chosen's neck, but she couldn't do it. She was too weak, and the Chosen was too kind.

"Colette, get away from her."

"But she's hurt."

"It could be a trap."

"I don't care. She needs help."

"Yeah, Raine, just help her."

"Fine. But you're all too soft-hearted for your own good."

Sheena felt warmth course through her. The familiar numbness of healing magic enveloped her, and she grit her teeth as a faint light stitched her back together. Her nausea and pain faded, and she opened her eyes for what felt like the first time in her life. Three people hovered over her.

One Sheena knew to be the Chosen. The other two, she had no idea.

"Where's your friend?" the Chosen asked. "What happened here?"

Sheena tried to recall the events of the past few hours when Corinne crept from the shadows and curled on her lap, growling softly at her three new acquaintances.

"I don't know… wait," Sheena groaned. "Desians. They attacked the town. I tried to help, but… there were too many. They…" Corinne crawled onto her shoulder and whispered in her ear.

"I can't find Lloyd," the little fox growled. "He was probably taken with the rest of them." Sheena sighed and raised a shaking hand to the fox's little chin to scratch it.

"Where's Lloyd? Weren't you traveling with him?" one of the Chosen's companions asked, a boy who looked about twelve or thirteen.

"Yes," she said slowly, trying to get her lungs to cooperate. "They… they took him." She buried her face in her hands. "They took everyone."

"Well, we can't just leave him!" the boy said.

"Absolutely we can," the older woman replied.

"Raine, please! He's my friend, and I'm sure he'd help us with the Regeneration if we only asked!"

"Genis! Do you know what you're saying? You're suggesting that we invade a human ranch, jeopardizing the entire World Regeneration, just to save your schoolmate?"

"I agree with Genis," the Chosen said. "We can't just leave him. Especially if he's a friend."

"I swear, you're making a huge mistake."

Sheena's pain had subsided but her weakness had stayed. She knew she couldn't go through with her mission, not yet, not after they had healed her. Not after the Chosen had shown her such kindness. It was wholly dishonorable.

"At least tell us what we need to know," the woman said. "Tell us why you're trying to kill the Chosen."

"Oh, boy," Sheena almost laughed. "This is gonna be a long story…"


	8. The Ranch

Lloyd awoke slowly.

It was not as if he could do otherwise, in the state he was in. He could barely move, and when he tried, pangs of agony pulsed through every muscle. His eyes were caked and blurred, his mouth was dry and tasted like blood and rot.

When he finally pulled himself, despite his own body, into full consciousness, he wished that he had not woken at all. His legs hurt, his head hurt, his hands hurt… but his back most of all—every inch of him creaked and ached. He groaned and turned on his side, only to find his hands bound tightly behind him. Where was he… in Palmacosta? Did he get in trouble at school… was this someone's idea of a joke? Maybe he was in an inn? At home? Where was home, anyway… and where was his dad? And mother?

"He's awake," he heard someone say.

"Good. Let's see what that thing can do."

Bright light flooded his vision, and he shut his eyes against it. He turned his head from side to side, and tried to free his hands so he could cover his face, but there was no escaping the searing light. Rough hands grabbed his arms and tugged him to his feet. His legs shook, his eyes burned, he could hardly stand, but he kept his footing as he was dragged and jostled down what he assumed was a hall.

He couldn't see anything but grey shadows against the bright light. Above his own gasping breath he could hear the clinking of boots echo sharply down the hall. The harsh, inorganic smell in this place was overpowering—metal, steam, some sour, acidic scent that made his nostrils twitch. The air seemed to be clean, but discomfortingly so.

He didn't have much time to take in his surroundings before his captors dragged him through a doorway and shoved him forward. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth as he stumbled into the room, legs aching, hands numb. He began to suspect they were going to kill him, and braced himself for a knife in the back or an axe to the head.

But suddenly he was alone, and his hands were free. He dared to open his eyes wider and had to shield them from the overwhelming light. Through the cracks in his lids he could see he was in an expansive metal chamber lit with buzzing white bulbs. He seemed to be alone in the vast room, and there was no sound except for the high-pitched humming of the lights.

Far up on one of the walls, he could see a window, but he couldn't quite see beyond its opaque black sheen. He squinted, and thought he could barely make out a humanoid shadow on the other side, but the glass was tinted too darkly for him to be sure. A shiver crept through him when he realized he was probably being observed.

On the far end of the room, part of the wall opened and a massive man emerged, fully armored and equipped with two swords. Lloyd thought for one irrational second that he might be dead, and that now he was to fight for a place in paradise. Or, on second thought, he might still be alive and this was the method of his execution. Either way, the thought of death hovered over him, and his exsphere responded accordingly, jolting him fully awake and sending energy through him.

He looked at his opponent, helmeted like a Desian, and a bewildering realization came over him: he was at the human ranch. Yes… he remembered what happened in Luin, the raid, the schoolgirl, Sheena and her heroic monster, the smoke, the anger…

So, this really was his execution. Well, he wouldn't give the bastards the pleasure—he would fight. To his surprise his executioner seemed to have the same idea. He threw one of the swords his way, metal glinting in the sterile light. It clanged to his feet, and he picked it up, readjusting the grip in his hand. He didn't know why they decided to let him defend himself, but if they wanted him to fight, he was more than glad to oblige them; he supposed he and the Desians would not so easily agree on anything else in the near future.

He gripped the sword and raised it above his head. The other man sprang at him and struck with such force Lloyd stumbled back into the wall. The tremor of the impact shot through his sword and down his arm, rattling his shoulder and ribs. His exsphere responded by sending a shock of power through him, and he swung, forcing his executioner to retreat.

The fight consisted of a hardly varied routine, to Lloyd's surprise. It was remarkably similar to his father's training: parry and swing, back up and advance, guard and strike. Unfortunately, right when Lloyd got used to the rhythm of the whole thing, he started to tire. He was still sore from the battle at Luin, still weak from his ordeal. His attacker, obviously experienced, could sense his hesitation and launched a full-out offensive, driving him back into the wall, hammering at him. Lloyd, arms shaking, took the blows one by one, until he felt his exsphere start to burn. Power flowed through him, and he gripped the sword so tight he thought it might break in his hands. He screamed, and with a two-handed stroke he cut through his attacker's gauntlet, into his forearm and out the other side. The Desian's arm, hand still clutching his sword, fell to the floor, followed by a spray of blood. Lloyd took his opportunity and thrust the tip of his sword through the man's throat.

The body fell to the floor, and Lloyd, panting, collapsed against the wall. He wondered if he had just fought for his freedom, or had at least delayed the date of his execution. He looked up at the tinted windows at the far corner of the room, but they were as lifeless as before. "What now?" he screamed at them. "Is that what you wanted? For me to kill him?"

No reply, no words, just the buzzing lights. Lloyd's breathing slowed, and his exsphere quieted down, losing its pale glow. He stepped over the still-bleeding body and started to make for the opposite wall. He knew the door was hidden somewhere along that seamless metal, and if he could open it, maybe if he ran fast enough down the halls the Desians wouldn't be able to catch him… He didn't get within a dozen paces of the door before it opened and in strode another assailant, this time armed with a spear. Lloyd grit his teeth and swore.

The second fight ended much like the first, with a dead Desian crumpled on the floor and Lloyd panting against the wall, exhausted. He glanced up to the windows again, absolutely sure he was being watched. He didn't have time to yell anything profound or profane at whoever was behind the windows before the door opened again, and in strode two Desians, each armed with a whip and machete.

Lloyd had more trouble with this fight—anyone would have. Thankfully, his exsphere lent enough strength through him to finish it. But he had sustained more than one wound, and when he collapsed against the wall this time, he left a streak of blood. He barely had enough time to pull himself to his feet when the door opened yet again and another Desian entered.

This one was different—bareheaded, unarmored, smiling. His eerie, greedy eyes sat wide-set below slicked blond hair, and the curl of his lip spelled out a hint of cruelty. Lloyd's stomach instinctively turned at the sight of him.

"Lovely, just lovely," he said, almost genially. "To think someone like you could do that. Truly, a superior product. Unfortunately, it's wasted on you."

Lloyd's legs shook, but he raised his sword and pointed it at the stranger. He stepped over the two newest corpses and lunged at him, only to have his sword swept aside by the man's staff. Lloyd felt a blunt impact on his cheek as the Desian smacked him across the face almost playfully.

"You're going to have to try harder if you want to keep that exsphere," he said.

So Lloyd tried, and Lloyd failed. Every time he attempted to land a blow, that staff was there, driving him away and delivering irritating smacks, mostly to the face and neck. The blows were never devastating, never enough to end the match, but each of them sent Lloyd reeling with anger. He did not know how many minutes passed during this frustrating routine—Lloyd's face was so swollen he could hardly see, but he still fought, never managing to make it through this man's defense. Each blow the Desian deflected only stoked the sparks of exasperation in him, and before long he found himself, despite his father's stern voice chastising him in his head, resorting to clumsier, angrier swings. It was a pathetic display that would embarrass even the lowliest of swordsmen, Kratos would say.

Eventually, the Desian drove the butt of his staff into the ground and raised his free hand, lowering his guard. Lloyd, already furious with himself and his attacker, didn't want to waste the opportunity. He launched himself from the slippery metal floor, blade raised, tip poised for the kill. But as he swung his sword above his head, time seemed to slow. Lloyd's hair stood on end, and a strange tingling sensation crept through him. It was like he was standing on the edge of something big, something powerful, but never quite—

Then suddenly, the big thing came, fast, hard, in the form of blue lightning. It tore through him, ripping along his veins like a thousand searing knives. He barely had enough time to scream before he dropped his sword and followed it to the floor, crumpled and feeble like discarded paper. Goddess, he had never been in so much pain in his life. He curled and writhed, spitting curses, muscles twitching. His eyes teared up, and he swore he could smell something burning. He could barely hear the Desian chuckle pleasantly over his own struggled wheezing.

"It was quite amusing while it lasted," he said, turning Lloyd over with his foot. "Too bad. I would've liked to see more. But we all can't have what we want." He knelt down, pinning Lloyd's arm with his knee, and reached over for his hand. Lloyd, still half-blind with pain, could feel fingers wiggle between his exsphere and his skin. No, dammit. He wasn't going to take it,  _he wasn't—_

His hand burned, and a searing power shot down his entire arm. With a metaphysical jolt of energy, strength flooded his muscles and veins. It was a painful but weirdly exhilarating sensation—as if he were being split open. It was an undiscovered, unprecedented agony for him, but when it tore through him, it left in its wake a sensation of  _blue_ , of searing coolness, of electric vigor. In a burst of this absurd pain, cerulean light sprang from his exsphere, knocking the Desian back into the air. Lloyd managed to sit up, shaking, and spied the man struggling to his feet far on the other side of the room. Lloyd did not know where that power had come from or what had triggered it, and he didn't have the remaining energy to even begin to wonder.

"Ha! Excellent!" The Desian, despite everything, seemed elated. "Beautiful, absolutely wonderful! It has a mind of its own!" He strode toward Lloyd, unfazed. "Perhaps it's trying to… no… that would be too poetic."

Lloyd rolled onto his knees, trembling, and tried to stand. The Desian gave him a heavy kick to the jaw and he fell back down, vision darkening. He could hear the man's calm but unnerving voice somewhere above him.

"This must be  _her_  fault. Yes, she left it with you, didn't she? If it is protecting you, we may need to take a few extra precautions when we remove it. Perhaps it will be necessary to cut off your hand. Maybe your entire arm, if you're unlucky." Lloyd groaned. "What was that?" the Desian asked, leaning in. "Did you say something?"

Lloyd mustered up all the strength he had left in his body. "Eat…" He had fully intended to finish with  _shit_  but his lungs no longer had the strength. He just wiggled his lips uselessly, eyes rolling back in his head, before he lost consciousness.

*

The voices danced around him, but he couldn't see anything. He could barely feel, barely think. Sensations and noises passed through him like sand through a sieve. He tried to move his legs, and couldn't. He tried to move his arms, and couldn't. But there was pain, especially in his left hand. He twitched his fingers and immediately regretted it.

"Be careful now, if you please. I'd rather he be intact. If his blood is anything like his mother's, he'll produce a superlative product."

His mother… perhaps these voices would be able to tell him about her. Maybe he should ask. Maybe they knew where his father was… Maybe he could… try harder at school. And listen to his parents. Maybe today his mother could pick him up from the academy, and they could go to the harbor… to watch the ships… If he could fix his hand—gods, if only he could stop the pain in his hand, everything would be fine…

"Mother…" was all he was able to groan.

"Oh dear, he seems to be waking up. It's better if his body isn't aware enough to tell his exsphere what's going on here, or we'll have some complications."

Something pinched his neck sharply. A warm fluid flooded his blood, lulling him back into the grey, cloudy numbness of sleep. The pain in his hand gradually declined, and he thought that for sure this afternoon he'd be able to see his mother after school. After school… Genis could come too. After…

*

Lloyd woke freezing and sore. Everything around him was quiet, dimly lit by electric lamps buzzing in the walls. He seemed to be on a filthy cot of some sort, dressed in itchy rags that looked like they had been cut from burlap. He sat up slowly, and coming to terms with the fact that he was still alive (the deep aches in his bones were enough to tell him as much), he threw off his ratty sheet to examine himself. He had all of his limbs, even all of his fingers, but on the back of his hand where he had attached his key crest and exsphere, he found some sort of bandage. He picked at the edges, wincing at the pain, and managed to pull it away. He let out a sigh and fell back to the cot, suddenly numb.

On the back of his bloodstained hand was no exsphere but a sutured slit, crusted with dried fluid. He examined it more closely and between the stitches he could see a shiny red scab forming. Lloyd grit his teeth and replaced the bandage.

So here he was. He was one of the unlucky ones, the humans who were fated to work to death at the ranch. He was one of the mourned, the missed, and the mercifully forgotten. Just like so many others.

He wondered what they had done with his clothes, his things… his hand instinctively shot to his neck, where he searched for the locket containing the portrait of his family. They had taken that, too. His hand fell away from his neck, and he lay back down on the lumpy cot.

Maybe this was his punishment for agreeing to assassinate the Chosen. Martel knows it was probably just as much as he deserved. He had earned this, for even trying to choose to save one world over the other. Or maybe it was all meaningless, it was just his bad luck, and Martel's vengeful hand did not guide his fate. Maybe he had just had a bad day.

He lost himself in useless thoughts of injustice and nihilism for a few minutes, but eventually his wandering mind settled on the unnerving dream he had the night before... or the hallucination he had, he wasn't sure. But he was sure that he had seen his mother, that he had heard voices speak of her. He remembered the chilling words of the Desian that had stolen his exsphere; he had said something about his mother's blood... dammit. He couldn't remember. His head hurt like hell and his memory was hazy. He thought he should just try to go back to sleep, to rest his aching brain.

Then an alarm screamed through the air, so harsh and so loud Lloyd almost fell from his cot. He covered his ears and struggled upright, but before he could walk to the door of his cell to see what was going on, it swung open and three Desians entered, fully armed and grinning.

"Wake up, kid. It's your first day on the job."

Lloyd just stared at them.

"Better hop to it, then. Lord Kvar is going to keep track of your progress personally, and you wouldn't want to give him anything but your best."

They prodded Lloyd out of the cell and down the hall, where he stumbled into walls, tripped over himself, blind with panic and deaf from the constant screech of the alarm. Soon he was outside, pushed into a group of other bewildered, battered and hopeless prisoners, similarly dressed and equally frightened. Lloyd looked around to see if Sheena had been captured as well, but couldn't find her. Of course, that didn't guarantee she was safe, but it gave him a faint glimmer of hope.

He didn't have much time to think about the welfare of his friend because he was suddenly swept up in a current of shaking, anxious prisoners. He found himself herded like the rest of them toward the edge of the prison yard, where a platform stood beneath towering fences of razor wire. On it loafed a bored-looking Desian, probably an officer by his uniform. He made a quick joke to one of the men standing guard next to him, chuckled to himself, then readopting his dull expression, lifted up a piece of paper and began to read.

"Welcome to the Asgard Human Ranch," he announced. One woman near Lloyd immediately fell to the ground, sobbing, as if she had just realized where she was. The Desian on the platform kept on with his speech, raising his voice above hers. "You will be keeping a tight schedule. Any deviation from this schedule will be met with punishment. Any insolence or disobedience will be met with punishment. Failure to reach the desired weekly work quota will be met with punishment. Stealing, hoarding, or selling rations will be met with punishment. Anyone who attempts an escape will be executed on the spot." Someone next to Lloyd fainted. He and a couple others bent down to help, and a couple of guards shouted at them to keep still. "Any other transgressions will be punished appropriately, at the discretion of the overseeing officer. You will be receiving two meals a day, and every night you will return to your cell when the bell sounds. For matters of hygiene, privacy, and privy schedules, speak with others of your respective blocks. Now, get to work."

The prisoners scattered, each herded to a different place according to his or her number. A few panicked, tried to fight back, and were beaten down or threatened into complacency. Lloyd tried to hide his horror as he followed the others of his block to their required places. He scanned the edge of the yard, not sure what he was looking for. Maybe Sheena, maybe an escape, maybe… and then he saw him. The tall, blond Desian that had taken his exsphere. He clenched his fists and looked him over, his proud stature, his air of authority, and he guessed it might be the Lord Kvar the guards had mentioned. He certainly did look lordly, in a twisted, smug sort of way. As if the man knew he was being watched, he lowered his gaze and met Lloyd's. The world froze for a moment. As the Desian slowly grinned, an unsettling chill rattled up Lloyd's spine. His heart skipped a beat and a sudden wave of nausea made him sway. Something unwelcome, something new to him, stirred in his gut. A sudden swell of unprecedented hatred made him clench his sore hand so hard he could feel the skin rip open anew. But before he could give into the temptation to climb the wall of the ranch and wipe that grin off Kvar's face, he was jostled away by his fellow prisoners, all trying to get to their assigned places for fear of a beating.

The spell was broken. He loosened his fists, and followed the other prisoners without incident. But Kvar's smile had stirred something deep, something dark within him, and he was suddenly terrified. Not so much of Kvar himself, but the sinking, burning hatred he felt—he didn't know where it had come from or where it would lead him. But as he saw the gaunt, horrified faces of the prisoners around him, as he watched the guards cut down a woman begging for her life, when he felt the hope drain from all the people around him, he decided he would follow that hatred wherever it took him. It would lead him out, it would lead him back to his exsphere, it would lead him to freedom. Then, as quickly as it came, the hatred disappeared, and a macabre resolution took its place. Lloyd swallowed his fury and decided that for the sake of revenge, he was going to stay alive.


	9. Kvar

"Did you hear about Pedro?"

"No way. Did he really get out?"

"Shh! Everyone, be quiet!"

"No, seriously."

"He did!"

"What?"

"They're going to kill everyone on his block if none of 'em fesses up to helping him."

"Well, who helped him?"

"I dunno, just some girl."

Lloyd heard a lot of things in the mess hall, some of them true, most of them false, but regardless of its veracity, this news made his stomach drop. Of course, he was sure everyone had their own fantasies of escape, even he did (of course he did), but he had never heard of someone actually doing it. Despite his best efforts not to get too optimistic, he felt a little hope rise in him. The prisoners around him, too, seemed to be caught up in a shared moment of vicarious triumph, ecstatic at Pedro's alleged success. They shushed one another and spoke in quiet, excited tones, slapping anyone whose voice rose too loudly over the din of the mess hall.

Lloyd wanted to join them; he wanted to ask questions, he wanted to share in the victory, even if he didn't like the sound of the mass execution that seemed to be imminent on the ranch's public schedule. He wanted to ask the other prisoners about Pedro, he wanted to know if there was a way he could get out, but he couldn't. If he talked with them, the guards might punish both him and the other prisoners. They were watching him closely, far more closely than they watched the others.

He didn't know why. He seemed to be doing about the same work as everyone else. Sure, they kept him working bigger projects and longer hours than most of the others, but he was an able-bodied young man with strong arms, so he saw no reason they wouldn't. They sometimes liked to force him to skip meals, and got too much pleasure in finding sorry excuses to beat him, but they did that with others, too. If you were unlucky enough to look at one of the guards the wrong way, or if they plain just didn't like you, they wouldn't hesitate to take a little time out of their day to ruin yours. They didn't seem to have anything better to do. Apart from the beatings, the command-screaming and the execution of prisoners, being a guard at a ranch honestly seemed like a boring job. They didn't handle the exspheres, they didn't seem to handle any logistics—they appeared to shoot the shit and smoke cigarettes more than they did any actual work. A few guards were assigned to him personally, and although they goofed off as much as the others, they never let him stray from his schedule.

He spent his time at the ranch as most did: working. Each night he got little sleep, and had an hour total each day to eat two heaping bowlfuls of a suspicious grey goo they called food, just like everybody else. But his days included periodic and invasive examinations that he was sure others didn't get. Sometimes they were tests of strength, sometimes endurance. They would often make him push a large metal block across the yard pointlessly for hours, while guards and internees alike watched. One time they made him fistfight a fellow prisoner. When Lloyd initially refused to fight the man, they grabbed a nearby woman and threatened to kill her until he acquiesced—to any of the other prisoners, it seemed a random (yet not uncommon) act of unnecessary cruelty, but he had seen the man with the clipboard at the edge of the yard, watching him closely. He had been wearing a white coat, like many of the other Desians he had the displeasure of spending his days with.

Most of the tests they did were administered in the medical wing of the ranch. They would draw his blood, cut open his hand and examine the crystalline exsphere that was growing slowly inside. Usually, Kvar was present at these procedures, watching and smirking but rarely speaking.

Within his first few days of living at the ranch, Lloyd had learned from another man in his block that this was how exspheres were made. "First, they shoot you up with something, I don't know what," he told Lloyd over a sickening meal of gruel. "Then, after the thing has had enough time to incubate, they put you to work."

"Why do they make you work?" Lloyd asked. He had always assumed that there was some kind of mining operation done in these places to produce exspheres. But now that he knew they grew inside people, it seemed as if the manufacturing process would take care of itself.

"Because exspheres respond to stress and pain the most, right?" The man shoveled some of the brown goo into his mouth. "In order to get one, you have to work the host. I mean, really  _work_. You have to really make 'em suffer." Lloyd didn't know how he could be talking so nonchalantly about this, but didn't interrupt to say so. "And then, after who knows how long, months or years, sometimes a lifetime, they take you into the medical wing to get your exsphere taken out." He paused.

"And then what?" Lloyd asked.

"And then you die."

A chill went through Lloyd and he couldn't help but examine his bandaged hand. His arm shook slightly, and he glanced back at the man across from him before standing up.

"Wait, kid, sit back down, they'll see you."

Lloyd knew they were already watching him. They already watched his every move. He swung his leg over the rusty metal bench and walked to the edge of the mess hall. A hush fell over the room, and the two Desians on meal duty called out to him, telling him to sit back down. Instead, Lloyd walked over to the far corner, where a little black camera stood, watching silently, always watching. Lloyd leaned into the camera, hoping,  _knowing_ , Kvar would be able to see him.

The dark, unnerving hatred inside him bubbled to the surface once more at the thought of the smirking Desian. It spread like a sickness through his veins, numbing his mind.

"Get your ass back to your table!" Lloyd barely heard the guards; he just focused his vision, now tunneling rapidly, into the uncanny black eye of the machine. "Or we'll come over there and make you!"

Lloyd only stared into the camera, and as each millisecond passed he was more and more sure that Kvar was on the other side, watching. "Listen here, you bastard," he hissed into the lens. "You're not gonna get away with this. I'm gonna make sure you—" He didn't have time to finish before the two guards on duty grabbed his elbows and dragged him away from the camera. Lloyd swung his arms, kicked and screamed, but before he could land a good punch, the guards beat him into the ground. Just to make sure he didn't get up and give them more trouble, one of them stomped on his stomach until what little gruel he had eaten came up again. Satisfied with their disciplinary measures, the Desians left him lying there.

"If any of you help him up you're gonna get the same treatment," one of them said. So no one moved while the guards sauntered back across the hall, chuckling and joking. Lloyd lay on the floor for a few minutes and listened to the other prisoners slurp and chew in wordless shock. When he could breathe properly again, he struggled to his feet and stumbled back to his table. He collapsed onto the bench and spit blood into his bowl of grey goop. The man across from him glanced worriedly at him but didn't dare speak. The entire hall was silent for the remainder of the meal; only the clinks of rusty metal forks and quiet chewing sounded through the mess hall. After that, Lloyd did not see the man that sat across from him again. He assumed he died or was moved to another sector.

That was early in the game, though, before Lloyd learned the rules. It wasn't so much the beatings, the insults, and other punishments that taught him to control himself, it was Kvar's reaction to his outbursts. Every time Lloyd disobeyed, fought back, argued or otherwise misbehaved, the worst part of his punishment would be the joy he saw Kvar got out of it. The first few times he was beaten in the yard, the Desian lord hovered over him like a vulture over a corpse, grinning the whole time. Shortly after his outburst at the camera, Kvar made it painfully clear he was pleased by having a hard loaf of bread delivered to his cell. Lloyd decided that even if he didn't quite understand Kvar's particular brand of sadism, he wasn't going to give the man what he wanted. So he forced himself to quiet down, to rage inwardly, to nurse that black, twisting hatred inside himself. Every day he told himself that Kvar would die by his hands. But in the meantime, he took the blows, did the work, and endured the invasive examinations, all so that he could deprive that bastard of what he craved most.

As if somehow alert to Lloyd's plan to lay low, Kvar seemed to have decided to follow him everywhere he went. Whatever yard he was assigned to that day, he would briefly look up from his work to inevitably find Kvar, standing high above him, surveying the labor. One time he was beaten down for staring at him for too long. He could feel Kvar smiling at that, smiling every time Lloyd's life got a little worse. And the seething anger inside Lloyd bubbled up, making his muscles shake, compelling him to plan his revenge.  _I will kill him,_  he told himself.  _I will kill him. I will survive, and I will kill him._

*

A few days after Pedro escaped (no one really knew if he had gotten away with it or if the Desians had hunted him down and just hadn't dragged his body back yet), Lloyd was brought into the medical wing for his routine examination. He had woken up that morning as he had woken up every morning since his arrival at the ranch—to the sound of the screeching alarm—and nothing about that day felt different. He sat in the usual chair, attended to by the usual hooded physician, who carefully strapped his wrists to the chair arms and his feet to the ground. They rubbed some brown liquid on the inside of his right elbow, slid a needle into his skin, and filled the syringe with his blood. He was used to this by now—he didn't even flinch when he watched the needle go in and come out. The syringe was handed back into a small crowd of clinical assistants and disappeared into the shadows.

Lloyd heard the familiar sound of the door to the medical wing swishing open, and suddenly Kvar was beside him, too close, smiling as usual. "How are we feeling today?" Lloyd didn't reply. He knew no matter his answer, it was likely to be the wrong one. No better way to get himself smacked and make the bastard's day. "Not so well, I take it," Kvar continued. "Oh well, let's just see what you've been up to these past couple weeks." He nodded to the physician, who cleaned Lloyd's hand and ran a scalpel across it.

Lloyd grit his teeth as a bead of blood appeared from the cut and rolled down the side of his hand. His arm shook a little, and the doctor stilled his wrist as his skin was parted and the crystal beneath revealed. Lloyd couldn't help but peer between the fingers of the physician. Always, it made him shiver to see that small smattering of crystalline cells growing beneath his skin. They had cut him several times, but still, each time they did it, he never expected to see that strange rock.

Kvar, however, was less affected by the sight of the tiny growth. "I'm disappointed, Lloyd. Truly disappointed. You could've done much better." Kvar turned on him and reached up his hand, gripping Lloyd's cheeks and squishing his mouth. A cut on his lip received from a previous punishment split open and began to bleed. "Your bitch mother did a much better job than you."

Lloyd struggled at his bonds, trying to free his hands so he could strangle Kvar, put out his eyes, to hurt him in any way, any  _possible_ way—he just needed to wipe that little smile off his face. He groaned helplessly, torturing his arms trying to escape. Kvar still clutched his cheeks so he couldn't spit the myriad insults he had boiling up inside of him, but he hoped the fury in his face was enough. His raised heartbeat and excited muscles must've made his hand spurt blood, because suddenly his arm, and the arm of the doctor holding his wrist, was covered with it.

"My lord, please," he heard the physician say. "Getting him riled up will not make it grow any faster."

Kvar's frown relented, and suddenly he laughed, smacking Lloyd's cheek playfully. "You're right, as usual. Goodness, I'm always getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"

"Patience, my lord," said the doctor, "is the greatest virtue."

"Yes, yes indeed. I'm sure he'll provide us with something truly extraordinary. That is, if he manages to live up to his legacy."

Lloyd bit his tongue, repeating his cathartic mantra to himself:  _I will kill him. In time, I will kill him. I will survive, he will die. I will kill him…_  He didn't notice the blood dripping from his mouth until the doctor wiped his face with a wet cloth.

"Don't get too excited, Lloyd," Kvar said, visibly amused. "Your day isn't done yet." The Desian stood up, patted him on the head and made his exit. The physician stitched up Lloyd's hand, deftly and quickly; he was as used to this routine as Lloyd was.

When he was released into the courtyard, fuming and clenching his uninjured hand, something caught his eye near the gate, under the arches of barbed wire. Usually around this time he'd be released with the other prisoners for their midday meal of gruel, but he saw that a crowd had gathered at one extremity of the yard, jittering and talking. Lloyd followed the crowd, pushed and jostled, and found himself facing a makeshift set of gallows. In a twist of his heart and a turn of his stomach, he realized someone was about to be hanged.

"For the crime of assisting subject P235 in his escape, we hereby publicly exterminate subject O191," a Desian from the platform read aloud, obviously bored. There was no explanation beyond that. He discarded the decree and grabbed the noose hastily, clumsily, as if he had much better things to do with his morning than sentence a prisoner to die. With that, he wrapped the noose around the neck of the condemned. With a jolt of agony piercing his stomach, Lloyd recognized the girl from Luin, a girl he had saved twice, a girl who had shown her defiance and bravery by wielding nothing more than a shovel against her town's oppressors. She still looked as recalcitrant as ever, with a stiff frown on her lips and a fire in her eyes, even in the face of death.

Lloyd, in the front of the crowd, had a clear view of her. Before he could stop himself, he strode toward the gallows, seething. He couldn't let her die. He couldn't let them kill her, not after what he had done for her, for Luin. Not after they had both fought so hard. He knew she hadn't been the first one from her hometown to die, and certainly wouldn't be the last, but her execution was salt in a wound he could not handle right now. He jumped toward the gallows, not sure how exactly he would save her, but the other prisoners seemed to sense his intent. They wrapped their arms around his, pulling him back into the crowd, telling him to leave it or end up like her. He struggled against them, trying to make his way up toward the gallows, but there were too many of them holding him back. The girl at the noose looked down at him, recognized him, and gave him one last smile before the trapdoor opened up below her and she fell.

Mercifully, her neck broke in an instant. Lloyd went numb and collapsed to his knees. He stared at her twitching, dangling feet and his blood went cold.

This was his fault. If only he had fought harder, been quicker, smarter, if only he hadn't gotten mixed up in this whole Chosen business, he wouldn't be here. He would be with his father, far away, untouched by the horrors of the ranch. If only...

A few Desian guards had noticed Lloyd's troublemaking and were pushing their way through the crowd of prisoners toward him. They hoisted him off the ground only to knock him back down, slamming him with truncheons and whips. As he lay on the ground, taking the blows, the crowd dispersed. The schoolgirl's body was cut down from the noose and two guards prepared to carry it to the crematorium.

From the corner of his swollen eye, Lloyd saw Kvar lean toward one of his guards and whisper something. The guard nodded and passed the message to the others, including the ones standing over him, massaging their spent striking arms and occasionally dropping insults down at him. They stopped immediately when Kvar approached, making way for the Desian cardinal, who stood over him as entertained as ever.

"I'm glad to see your little checkups have no ill-effects on your pluck," he said. Lloyd struggled to his knees. "Unfortunately, displays of such blatant impudence are not tolerated here. I'm afraid you're going to have to learn some respect."

_Shit, he's gonna have a field day with me now,_ Lloyd thought. Part of him cursed himself for getting in trouble and making Kvar's day a little better, but a bigger part of him knew that he couldn't have acted differently. Lloyd was hauled to his feet, and dragged between two guards to the edge of the yard. Kvar followed him, and several more guards came after. They shoved him to the front gate and held him there while the instruction to open it was relayed up to the men on the wall. While the gate slowly opened, Lloyd looked around. To his right, just beyond the fence, was the green expanse of untouched Asgardian forest. To his left he spied the charred and decaying corpse of a prisoner who had tried to scale the electric fence, and had been left there as an example to others.

Lloyd wondered what that prisoner would've thought if he had seen that they were opening the gate for him and leading him out of the ranch. Probably bitterness, maybe hope. Maybe Lloyd could hope. Maybe he would manage to kick his way to freedom and run off into the forest. The thought died quickly in him when he turned his head and saw that at least ten guards were escorting him, all armed with rifles.

For the first time in months, Lloyd saw the outside world. It looked much the same as it always had—the rivers ran their usual course, the animals lived their usual lives, the trees whispered as they always had. Nature seemed to not care who was suffering, who was slaving away, and who was dying at the hands of the Desians. Everything was as it had been, at least from the perspective of the natural, non-human world.

Lloyd was dragged through the forest surrounding the ranch and into a clearing, where he was released. He looked around. Piles of dirt surrounded him, and the smell was overpowering. He realized he was in what must be the ranch's burial ground.  _They're going to kill me_ , Lloyd thought, gritting his teeth.  _They're going to kill me and leave me here._  One of the guards threw Lloyd a shovel and commanded him to dig. He knew they were going to make him dig is own grave, then slit his throat, or shoot him, or stab him, and throw him inside. Or worse, they were going to bury him alive…

But instead they dumped the body of the schoolgirl in front of him. A strange mixture of horror and relief rushed through him. He wasn't going to die today; she had done it for him.

Even in death, she still looked defiant. Maybe she was pleased with herself for having assisted in Pedro's escape. But any information she could've given Lloyd about how to get out of the ranch went with her into oblivion. Whatever regret he felt at her failure to help him was overshadowed by his gratitude (as well as his guilt) in having lived where she died.

"Better hurry up, boy," one of the guards said. "She's getting a little stiff." His comrades laughed.

Lloyd shook with ire, but still managed to start digging.  _Don't do anything_ , he told himself.  _Don't do anything at all that will make Kvar happy._  He concentrated not on the cruelty, not on the girl or her death, but the dirt, the impartial dirt. It didn't care who died and who lived, who was righteous and who was evil. It took them all in and turned them into more dirt, into nothing. It sapped their mana and gave it to the forest, and it was unstoppable. He numbed, overwhelmed by the all-encompassing power of the soil. He turned it over with his shovel, hauling out piles of brown dirt until a human-sized trench began to appear.

He wondered if he managed to dig deep enough, he would find another body. Maybe that body would be his mother's. He wrung momentary comfort from the idea that he could lie down beside her and refuse to get up. Maybe they would shoot him and just leave him there, piling dirt on him, and he could finally meet her again after all these years...

No. He couldn't die here, not before he killed Kvar. He gripped the shovel harder and dug in earnest.

The Desian lord, reclining on a stump, watched him and smiled, as always. Every few shovelfuls, Lloyd would look up at him, clench his teeth, and repeat in his head the only words left that mattered.  _I will kill him… I will…_

Lloyd dug well into the afternoon, sweating under the scorching sun. He had shoveled for so long that thoughts of the girl, thoughts of his mother, thoughts of his own suffering had left him. Only the mantra of revenge stayed. He shook with exhaustion, but his mind was empty except for his violent resolve. When the Desians were satisfied with the size of his hole, they told him to drop her body inside. By this time, the corpse had gone stiff, and Lloyd had some trouble fitting her in the plot. He managed to fold her arms over her chest and shove her into the grave, and when he climbed out of the trench, he smelled acridly of death. He piled dirt onto the body, trying to cover her face first so he didn't have to look at it. When he was done, he patted the newly turned mound with the underside of the shovel and faced his captors.

Kvar seemed pleased with his work, but then again Kvar seemed pleased with almost everything. Lloyd tried his best to stare him down, repeating his mantra, hoping that somehow Kvar would hear him. The Desian overseer recognized the hatred in Lloyd's stare and drank it in with a smile, giving the impression that it only satiated and refreshed him. He stood up, motioned to the guards, and Lloyd was roughly escorted away from the clearing, through the surrounding trees, and back to the ranch. He thought that he might as well make his escape into the forest now, before they locked him back in that damnable prison, but he knew how that would turn out. Lloyd would have a bullet in each knee and Kvar would have a fit of euphoria.

When Lloyd was dragged back in through the gates, he saw that the gallows had not yet been disassembled. Apparently the Desians thought that they might as well torture two birds with one stone, so they strung him up by his feet on the same rope that had killed the schoolgirl. He had not known what they would do to him then, but he supposed he should've guessed.

After a laughter-filled afternoon of beating his back with rods and whips, a few of the guards drank beer in the setting sun. Some of the unluckier internees who happened to pass by were forced to throw rocks at him, but fortunately for him, the prisoners were so overworked and feeble the stones barely hurt.

"Look at him," one of the guards said. "Looks like his head's about to pop."

"Maybe we should cut him down," said another. "Kvar will be pissed if we kill him."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Think he'll manage to break his neck from there?"

"Nah."

"Righty." One of them sliced through the ropes holding his feet and he fell to the platform, pain shooting through his back and into every limb. He tried to get up, but his muscles failed him. The guards hauled him to his feet, and after some deliberation over what to do with him, decided they might as well string him back upright. After all, they couldn't take him back inside until he stopped bleeding. They didn't want to have to clean up the floor.

After they had realigned Lloyd and evidently tired themselves out having fun with him, they left him dangling, dripping blood onto the trapdoor that now lay closed under him. He struggled to breathe, every inch of him pained and weak, but he couldn't muster the strength to loosen the ropes around his wrists and make a break for it. The stripes in his back ached, and his every muscle throbbed with fatigue.

Right when he thought his day couldn't get any worse, Kvar decided to enjoy the sunset with him. Desian guards procured a chair for him and he sat beside Lloyd, agonizingly just out of reach, watching the western sky and reading a book of poetry. From the corner of Lloyd's swollen, watery eye, he spied something familiar, nestled between the pages of Kvar's thick book; a string of brown yarn that Lloyd had fashioned as a chain for the locket. Lloyd dared himself to let his eyes follow the length of the yarn—and there it was, the tiny portrait of his family, hanging on the end of what Kvar now used as a bookmark.

Lloyd groaned, twisting his wrists, aching for blood. Kvar didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't show it. Instead he smiled and turned the page.

"I've always been a fan of the pastoral tradition," Kvar told him as he dangled, the gallows crossbeam creaking slightly. "Perhaps that's why I chose to immerse myself in ranch life. Spectacular views like this are just not commonplace where I'm from. And there is something so satisfying about a hard day's work done right, isn't there?"

Lloyd tried desperately to not let out the sob that was bursting in him. Here Kvar was, only a few feet away, unarmed, and Lloyd could not touch him. He couldn't even try, he was so weak.

"I'm sorry we have to do this to you, really I am," the Desian overlord continued. "But I'm afraid you're just not doing as well as we expected. Evidently you're not suffering nearly enough. But not to worry, we can fix that. I am in this business for a reason, after all. And if you can't keep up, well, we'll just hang you and be done with it."

Lloyd couldn't swallow. He could barely breathe.

Kvar closed the book and looked up at him, smiling. "My dear boy, I'm going to share a secret with you. The secret to running a successful operation is merely an exercise in cost management. You must assess possible losses and weigh them against gains—the whole dreary affair is only economic. I'm sure you've learned about economics in school, if you ever went to school. They're very particular when applied to human ranches, mostly because all of you are so disappointingly fragile. Humans are an immensely perishable product. Why, just last year there was a pneumonia outbreak and I lost nearly a quarter of my crop. Cost me a fortune. Not to mention Lord Yggdrasill was most displeased." Kvar shook his head. "It's not an easy job, but I wouldn't trade it for the world."

Lloyd swayed slightly in the mild afternoon breeze. The wind tickled his hair gently, almost mockingly, while Kvar read him a poem about two shepherds falling in love. Lloyd's eyes closed—he was thirsty as hell, and he couldn't feel his hands anymore. Unfortunately he could still hear Kvar, who never seemed to be done talking.

"I saw your father the other day," the Desian said, after finishing a particularly long poem about a daisy crushed under a lamb's foot.

Lloyd's eyes shot open. He tried to muster enough strength to speak, but only a groan came out.

"Yes, he looked about as healthy as you do now. About in the same situation, actually. It's almost poetic, isn't it?"

Lloyd could barely speak. His mouth felt like cotton. "What… did you… do…"

"Oh, I haven't done a thing to him. He did this all to himself. And to you. If he hadn't fooled with our Angelus project, then you wouldn't be in this situation now. But I suppose that's all in the past. We have the project back, and now, if we're lucky, you're even going to make us another one. Come to think of it, we should probably breed you so our supply of your mother's blood doesn't run completely dry."

Lloyd muttered something under his breath.

"I can't hear you, boy. Speak up."

"I will… kill you."

Kvar laughed outright. "Goodness, you're a barrel of laughs, aren't you? It will almost be a sad day when we have to cull you." Kvar went back to reading, occasionally removing his impromptu bookmark and subconsciously toying with it, as if to make sure Lloyd knew it was there. He asked Lloyd's opinion on the form of this poem and the rhyme scheme of that one, and asked him if he thought the whole symbolism of a sacrificial lamb was terribly clichéd. Lloyd, of course, didn't answer. He only groaned, clenching and unclenching his fists weakly, until after what seemed like hours, Kvar finished reading. "It looks as if it may rain tonight," he said, closing his book and standing. "Perhaps it will be refreshing for you. Perhaps not." He flashed Lloyd a smug grin and stepped off the platform, heading back into the warm glow of the Desians' quarters.

Lloyd turned slowly, arms aching, as clouds gathered in the distance.

*

It rained all night. Lloyd slipped in and out of sleep, drenched and freezing, and briefly considered dying out here, just to spite Kvar and rob him of his exsphere. But remarkably, every time he jerked his head up, either out of pain or fear or cold, he was still alive. When he could, he tried to catch as much rain in his mouth as possible.

Just before dawn it stopped raining. The early morning wind, though gentle, chilled him to the bone. He watched the forest beyond the barbed wire, thinking of what he would do when they finally untied him. The next time he saw Kvar, he would kill him. He didn't care if he was pumped full of bullets, if the guards managed to cut him open before he even got there—he would make it to Kvar, and he would rip him apart. But not before he forced the bastard to tell him what he'd done to his mother, his father, to him.

_Why us?_  Lloyd found himself thinking.  _What was our crime?_  Maybe Lloyd had been born into an obscenely unlucky family. Maybe his ancestors had done something vile and now he was paying the price. Maybe the world was just unspeakably cruel and he, like everyone else, was at its mercy.

He watched the trees as the sun slowly rose. Shadows danced, leaves rustled, the sunlight peered through branches. The forest was safe from the savagery of morality, the threat of evil. All nature did was survive. He wondered if he might be lucky enough to be reincarnated as a tree when the time came.

Suddenly, he thought he saw a flash of something white. Hair, maybe, perhaps a coat. And then he saw Genis at the barbed wire, staring through at him. He blinked. The boy was still there, so he blinked again. Lloyd thought exhaustion must've gotten the better of his brain. But Genis stayed, clutching the wire. He seemed like he was shouting something to Lloyd.

Then the alarm rang across the entire ranch, calling the prisoners to work. Genis jumped and disappeared at the sound of the shriek. Lloyd almost called after him, but couldn't find his voice. He dangled alone, staring after his friend, until a few yawning guards climbed up the steps to him.

"Wonder how he did overnight," one asked, almost with a concerned tone.

"Looks like his arms didn't fall off."

"Welp. Might as well cut him down, then."

They struck at the ropes and he fell, wrists aching, onto the platform. He couldn't muster the strength to stand, so guards picked him up and threw him on the yellow grass just as the other internees were filing into the yard. "You'd better save your strength," one said. "You're gonna have to disassemble the gallows here." The man smiled at Lloyd's grimace. "You've sure got a long day ahead of you."


	10. Rage

He was cold, curled in the dark, head tucked between his elbows. His body shook, but he couldn't tell if it was a shiver from the chill or a convulsion of pain. His head spun, he was blind, paralyzed—he couldn't tell whether he was asleep or awake.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the darkness, but he didn't know why.

Something soft touched his shoulder and his trembling stopped. He was too weak to lift his head, but he didn't need to. He knew that warmth, he knew whose hand squeezed his shoulder, he knew which dream this was.

"Dad," he muttered.

"I'm here." The voice came from far away, flowing and pooling like water into the forgotten nooks and crannies of his mind.

"Why?" He couldn't tell if he spoke aloud, or only in his dazed head. "What did he do to you? To mom? To me?"

The distant voice kept its silence. But Lloyd could feel its echoes, hovering somewhere in the back of his head, waiting to answer.

"Am I dead? Will you let me die?"

"No."

That was just like his dad. Always curt, always strict. Always no. No. No.

"Don't die, Lloyd."

No. No.

I won't. Not before I kill him. Not before I kill… I will kill…

No.

*

When the screeching alarm ripped Lloyd from his uneasy sleep, he was still mumbling nonsense to himself. He sat up slowly, limbs throbbing. His skin alternated between pain and cold in a confused kind of numbness. He groaned, wiped sweat from his face, and glimpsed the back of his hand. He fell back onto his bed, staring at it.

The exsphere under his skin had broken the surface sometime during the night, and now sat on his hand like a crystalline red wart. He scratched at it, picking at the edges, trying to peel it from his skin, but with each attempt, a burning pain shot from the little stone to the tips of his fingers. It was too firmly embedded, and he didn't have much time to pick at it before his cell door slid open and the guards ushered him into the hall. He had work to do that day, and his exsphere wasn't going anywhere, at least not yet.

Lloyd didn't know how many days passed, or even if they were separate days at all. His sunlight was nothing but a headache, the shadows of the halls instilled no relief in him, but only exacerbated his pain and exhaustion. He did not see Kvar during that time. He knew the next time he caught a glimpse of that man, he would kill him. Lloyd knew he would happily march through a shower of bullets, gladly endure the gauntlet of blades and whips as long as he got to Kvar in the end. He knew he would throw himself straight to hell as long as he could take that bastard with him. So it was probably best for the both of them that the Grand Cardinal made himself scarce.

Spurred on by the hateful energy inside him, Lloyd endured. Somehow he was able to put one foot in front of the other, somehow able to push through the aches that jolted through every inch of him when he moved. The only pain he could not ignore or escape was the stinging of his hand—consistent and excruciating, the sensation of exsphere growth was novel to him. Before the little stone had broken the surface, it had remained nothing but a sore ache. Now it both burned with the dry feeling of a scab and the wet sting of a fresh cut. Its intensity would recede and return, sending slow waves of agony up to his elbow. Occasionally he would muster the bravery to glance at the thing, at the ugly red stone growing on his inflamed skin, and wonder if it was even possible to separate oneself from an exsphere once it started growing. As far as he knew, once the thing was taken off, the host either died instantly or went insane. He had never witnessed the second eventuality, but he'd heard fantastical stories from other prisoners of green-skinned monsters, scaly and blind, that had once been human but whom the exsphere had driven mad. Of course, he didn't believe them. Those at the ranch would make up any old horror story to make themselves feel better about their own situations.

The sun rose bright and unforgiving when Lloyd found himself dragged from the yards and into the basement of the medical wing. He figured it must've been for a routine checkup, but he could not gauge the passing of time accurately enough to know for sure. Mercifully, Kvar failed to show, but the attending physician seemed pleased with his progress. "It always grows better once it breaks the skin," the man observed, voice breathy and soft behind his mask . "Yes, most promising." Lloyd was only thankful that he didn't have to have his hand slit open so they could see what was going on inside. Though given the pain the damnable little thing had caused him once it rose to the surface, he would've almost preferred that option.

Lloyd clenched his teeth as the physician prodded his exsphere, muttering to himself. He was so engrossed in the stone's progress, he didn't see his two medical aides shift slowly behind him. At first Lloyd didn't either—he just tried to keep his breath steady and endure his discomfort as the doctor prodded. But the way they moved, deliberately but furtively, caught Lloyd's attention. When he lifted his eyes to theirs in silence, he almost thought he recognized them.

He said nothing as the two aides approached the preoccupied doctor. One of them looked to the other, then to Lloyd, and gave a conspiratorial nod. Lloyd swallowed the lump in his throat as one of the aides raised a staff, wooden and heavy, above its white hood. In a flash and a bone-chilling  _thump,_  the physician fell. Lloyd blinked, looked at the doctor tumbling forward into his lap, head bleeding, and blinked again. The incident was so quick, so strange to him, it momentarily paralyzed him. It seemed he was merely daydreaming again, that another nightmare had leaked into his waking hours. He half expected the bleeding doctor to turn into his father, half expected himself to fall back through the floor at any moment now and wake up in his own cell to the screech of the alarm.

When one of the medical assistants removed her mask, he hoped fervently that he was awake. "Sheena!" he said, and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"Happy to see me?" she said, tugging at his restraints.

The second aide removed hers, and Lloyd saw it was Genis' older sister. "We're going to get you out of here," she said. "So it's in your best interest to be quiet and do what we tell you."

Lloyd pulled his hands free with Sheena's help, and swore to Martel that if he woke up back in his cell after this unexpected turn of events, he would march up to heaven and kill her himself. "Where's Genis? The Chosen?" he croaked, stepping out of the chair and reassuring himself he was in the waking world.

Sheena smiled. "They're here too."

"Against my advice," Raine muttered. "But they  _insisted_  they had to free as many people as possible."

"What? Really?" Lloyd could barely walk, much less think clearly. "How in Martel's name did you pull that off? And how did you get in here?"

Sheena helped him along the tiles, frowning at his shaking legs, his weak gait. "Some guy named Pedro escaped here a while back. He helped us. Told us how to get in and out of the ranch."

_Goddess bless that brave bastard,_  Lloyd couldn't help thinking triumphantly.  _Gods bless him and the girl who helped._ "Rest her soul," he found himself muttering.

"What did you say?" Sheena asked. When he stumbled, she pulled his arm over her shoulders and held him upright.

"I said… how is he? How is Pedro?"

"He's dead," Raine said.

"Oh." Lloyd's heart sank. "Desians?"

"No. He died on his own."

So that was that. Pedro had paid the price all of them paid at one point or another.

"Can you stand on your own?" Sheena asked him.

"Yeah," he answered, recovering his composure enough to steady himself on his own two feet.

"More importantly, can you fight?" Raine asked. She handed him a sword of Desian make, obviously stolen.

"Of course I can." He took the hilt, relieved to have even a simple weapon. He wondered if this cheap thing would be enough to slice his way out of the ranch. He knew he could fight, but winning was another matter entirely.

The three of them exited the medical wing into the hall just as the ranch-wide alarm sounded. They scrambled up the empty stairwell to the yard, where hundreds of prisoners jostled in chaos, making for the entrance. Above their bouncing heads, Lloyd could see the shining metal move in the sunlight, and heard the unmistakeable screech of the gate opening. His heart rose in half-triumph as he snuck around the perimeter of the yard after Raine and Sheena. Most of the guards were too preoccupied with the escaping prisoners to notice that two uniformed medical assistants were sneaking away with one of their crop.

They were halfway to the exit when something took hold of Lloyd and wouldn't let go. "Wait," he said. His companions turned, incredulous eyebrows raised. "I need to get something. You go find Genis and the Chosen and help them get out." Before either of them could protest, Lloyd dashed toward the Desians' quarters. Since all the guards and their superior officers were out in the yard trying to quell what was quickly turning into both an escape and a riot, it was easy for him to make his way to the highest floor, where he knew Kvar kept his office. Lloyd had to try a few doors before he found the right one.

The Desian lord stood at the far window, overlooking the yard. He seemed fully immersed in the chaos below, and did not turn when he heard the swishing of his automatic door.

"I would appreciate a report," he said, eyes glued to the glass.

Lloyd said nothing, just crept along the carpet of the office in silence. A blue glint brought Lloyd's gaze to the desk between him and Kvar. There lay his sword, sheathed, and next to it sat his exsphere, still attached to its key crest. On the corner of the desk lay Kvar's collection of poetry, and Lloyd could spy the glint of the locket serving as its bookmark. He stepped silently across the carpet, and picked up the sword as discreetly as he could, leaving the Desian machete in its place.

"A report!" Kvar barked, eyes still fixed on the yard. Lloyd slipped the locket out of the book and wrapped the yarn around his wrist. He grabbed his exsphere, and after instinctively trying to lay it over the one he grew himself, slipped it onto his opposite hand. It made contact with his skin, warm and reassuring, just as Kvar turned around, evidently irked at his subordinate's disrespectful silence.

Something that might've been relief passed over the Cardinal's face when he saw Lloyd. "Oh, dear me. I thought you'd escaped with the rest of the rabble. But you seem to enjoy my company too much to pass it up for freedom."

Lloyd unsheathed his sword. "Where's my dad?"

Kvar raised his eyebrow in response. He smirked slightly, stepping toward Lloyd. The tip of the sword touched his chin, and he smiled as if daring Lloyd to just lean in and drive it through his throat. "He's serving Lord Yggdrasill, like the rest of us."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lloyd said, but in his mind he saw that face, that cruel, cold-eyed face of the man that had orchestrated the capture of his father. That was Yggdrasill, he knew it.

Kvar only chuckled quietly as he backed out of reach, circling around the desk.

"What about my mother?"

"Your mother? What about her? She was a valuable asset. She gave us the best exsphere we've ever seen. A subject truly worthy of the Angelus—"

"No!" Lloyd shouted. "What did you do to her?"

"Dear boy, I didn't do anything to her. You think I'd waste such a spectacular specimen? In fact, despite the efforts of my less sophisticated colleagues, it was probably my doing that she survived as long as she did. No, it was your father that killed her."

Lloyd shouted, thrust his sword forward, aiming for Kvar's face. The Desian swiftly stepped aside, cool and amused, as usual.

"He never told you? My, that's awkward." Kvar dodged another blow. "You think he'd have the decency to tell his own son what he did."

"You shut up!" Lloyd screamed, the black anger inside him boiling to the surface. His exsphere burned—they both did. Energy flowed through his arms and he swung again, only to slice air.

Kvar laughed. "This is precious." He sidestepped Lloyd's thrust and spun, kicking him in the back. Lloyd fell forward onto his knees, coughing. He turned just in time to receive a good kick to the face. He flew back into the desk, sputtering, wiping his bleeding lip. "In fact," Kvar continued, a little too satisfied with himself, "if I recall correctly, it was the very sword you're holding that he used to run her through." Lloyd stabbed at the Cardinal's heart and missed. "Or did he slit her throat? It was quite a while ago—I can't remember every little detail." Lloyd pushed off the desk and toward Kvar, lifting his blade. The Desian spun out of the way, and the sword followed him, barely nicking him in the cheek.

The Cardinal seemed pleased, as he always did. "Nothing but insolence," he muttered. "But show me what you can do with two of those things on your side."

Kvar clearly did not want to play around. He dashed toward Lloyd, arms outspread, lightning webbing his fingers. Lloyd barely had time to raise his sword before Kvar clapped either side of his blade, sending a jolt through the metal and into his arms.

Lloyd smelled his flesh burn, felt his muscles turn to rock. He clenched his jaw so tight he swore his teeth were breaking, and there was no air in his lungs for him to scream. He fell to the floor, blind with pain. He could barely hear Kvar's laugh, and a horrifying sense of deja vu swept through his mind. He could not think of what would happen if he failed again, if Kvar took his exsphere, put him back in the cell, harvested the stone growing under his skin… No. No, that couldn't happen. He grit his teeth and told himself to get back up, to cut him open, to rip him apart. Kvar bent to pick up the Desian-made sword from his desk and lowered it, tip pointed toward Lloyd's throat. Lloyd couldn't get up, couldn't lift his arms to save himself. The smell made his stomach turn, but he couldn't move. His mind was the only part of him that seemed functional, and even then it just turned over itself in panic. If only he had just fled with Raine and Sheena and not been stupid enough to seek revenge, if only, if only— Kvar's sword flashed closer to his face—

And then there was nothing but thick black smoke. He heard shuffling behind him, a frustrated grunt from Kvar, and then in a wave of blonde hair and snow-white fabric, the Chosen stood above him, light spreading like petals shining from her back. She looked like a real angel, winged and haloed in soft dust like the old murals of Martel on the church walls. She placed herself between Lloyd and Kvar, and when the smoke cleared, the Desian lowered his weapon. "Chosen One," he said, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Lloyd took Kvar's brief distraction as an opportunity to struggle to his feet, sword in hand.  _Kill him now_ , screamed the voice in his head.  _Kill him, kill him…_

"You're not supposed to be here," the Desian continued, narrowing his eyes.

Lloyd didn't know what he meant, and didn't care. His head was empty except for his mantra, his unwavering resolve to kill this half-human scum, and now was his only opportunity. He pushed the Chosen aside, vision tunneled, blind to everything but Kvar, now with his guard down. Agonizing blue fire spread from Lloyd's hands to his heart, setting all of his veins aflame. He sprang forward, his sword outthrust—and in a silent, clear and unbelievable millisecond, the tip of the blade entered Kvar's chest. Lloyd couldn't hear his own cry as he drove it through the Desian's heart and out his back. He was on fire, the intensity flowing through him was unbearable—his heart and lungs felt like they were splitting open. It wasn't until Lloyd had pulled his sword from Kvar's chest in a splatter of blood that he realized what he had done.

The Desian fell to his knees, silent. He lifted his cold eyes and the barest hint of a smile played across his lips. Lloyd could not tolerate that smirk of half-triumph, as if he knew something Lloyd did not. The fire in him seared his insides black with hatred as he raised his sword once more. Kvar was not a man Lloyd would let die smiling. He would cut that grin off his face if he had to.

Lloyd hammered his sword down between the Cardinal's eyes. The sight of it made him sick, but he couldn't stop himself. He drew the blade up once more and screamed, swinging as hard as he could and separating Kvar's head from his shoulders. He watched the body fall, but he couldn't stop himself from driving the sword once more through its heart. And once more, and once more, just to make sure. He was blind, he was on fire, he had to do this, he had to make sure Kvar was dead, he had to wipe the goddamn smile off his face, had to make the bastard pay for everything…

Then the Chosen was there, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him backward. The dark rage inside him switched off like a light, and the fire left him, leaving only weakness. His legs gave out and his head swirled.

"Burn in hell," he croaked before stumbling backwards, legs shaking, into the Chosen. She lowered him to the floor, where he panted and trembled, partly in disbelief, but mostly with an overwhelming feeling of liberation.

He almost couldn't believe he had done it. Finally, he had done it. His mantra settled, silent, in the far reaches of his mind, and his breathing slowed. He blinked slowly, still half expecting to wake up, to realize this whole unbelievable experience had been a dream.

"Are you okay?" the Chosen asked, cradling him.

"Holy shit, Lloyd! What the hell did you go and do that stupid thing for!" Sheena knelt by his side, grime smeared across her cheeks. She glanced over at the body of Kvar, separated into several pieces, still bleeding profusely. "Holy… Are you crazy, kid?"

Lloyd was too exhausted to justify himself. He only wheezed as Genis knelt by him, grabbing his shoulder. "Dammit, I thought you were a goner."

"Me… too," he managed to say as all three of them helped him up. Genis' sister, who sometime in the confusion had entered the room, slipped behind Kvar's desk and started fiddling with his machinery.

"I'm rigging this place to self-destruct," she said expressionlessly.

"What?" Genis squeaked. "Really?"

"If we leave the facility as is, there is a chance that operations will continue despite all our work here. I trust you have no objections."

"Well, no, but..."

"Sheena. Can you get us out of here? We can't make it down past the guards in time."

"Uh, yeah," Sheena said. She wore a nervous grimace as she dug through her obi for one of her cards. "Everyone get close, it'll be a little weird." She crept toward Lloyd and the Chosen, the siblings following, holding one another's hands tightly. "Last one, grandpa," she muttered, and she lifted her hand. A cold white smoke enveloped them, ushering Lloyd's body into an odd sort of emptiness, but his pain subsided and the agonizing fire in his hands went out. He almost started to enjoy the sensation of nothingness when he suddenly rematerialized. As he fell from the white smoke into air, he felt as if he had submerged into molasses, dense and inescapable.

He tumbled onto soft earth, and the feeling passed. Above him, white clouds crawled their way across the sky, and he tried to turn his head to look around him. He spied the tips of crumbled towers, the glint of a nearby lake, the white mountains in the distance. "Are we… are we out…" he managed to groan.

"Yeah," Sheena said. She tightened her grip around his shoulders, helping set him on his back. The Chosen took his hand in hers, and he felt a strange warmness enter his palm.

"Chosen," he said hoarsely.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Colette."

"It's nice… to meet you," he managed to croak before his eyes closed and he was lost to the world.


	11. Rest

Voices. There were always voices. It seemed that everywhere he went, every time he closed his eyes, there they were. Voices he could not silence, weaving a conversation that perpetually excluded him.

"…Insane? Did you see... what he did… man?"

"Like you wouldn't have… situation..."

"G… nis…"

"Don't trust…"

"…"

"…"

…

No

Don't die, Lloyd.

Wake up.

Up…

When Lloyd's eyes shot open, he saw the vague, shining shape of Virginia's calm face. He blinked, hoping that everything had been a nightmare and he was still in that lumpy straw bed in Exire, enjoying the elf's tender care and enduring her cooking. But the sudden intense pain in his left hand convinced him otherwise. He sat up slowly, his vision clearing, and saw that it was not Virginia who hovered over him.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked.

"About sixteen hours," Raine said. She sat beside him with a cool cloth, wiping his forehead. "Lie back down. I healed you as much as I could, but there will be a few scars. A lot of scars. You still need rest."

He glanced around and realized they must be in Luin. The building in which they had taken refuge still managed to stand, but most of its walls had been reduced to shaky beams and a couple piles of bricks.

"Is this… the mayor's place?" he asked.

"What's left of it," Sheena appeared, kneeling down beside Raine.

"Some of my stuff must still be here," he said.

"We can go look for it later. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he answered. Though not exactly fine, he did feel a lot better. He almost felt normal. That insane, dark rage inside him seemed to have disappeared, but the throbbing in his hand had not.

"Well, you look like shit," Genis put in, before receiving a slap to the back of his head for his vulgarity. "Ow, sis! Jeez."

"Genis is right, though," Sheena said. "You're kind of a mess. And your exsphere…"

Instinctively, Lloyd reached over to cover his hand. "It's all right."

"It's not all right," Raine said. "Wearing it without a key crest for so long has clearly taken a toll on you. But what I want to know is why you have it."

"They… the Desians put this one on me when I got to the ranch. They put it on all of us. It's how these things are made. They put something in my hand… I think I was drugged at the time. I don't remember much. A few days later, this started to grow. Every once in a while they'd take me to the medical wing and examine it. It didn't actually break the skin until recently. Most of the time it was inside my hand… I don't know how it grows, all I know is that they make you work so it can grow faster. Then they take it off, and… well, you die."

"Are you kidding?" Sheena asked. Lloyd could not tell if her pale half-grimace was of disbelief or horror.

"Why would I kid about that? Each one of those exspheres you're wearing now came from a person. They came from… killing that person."

She glanced at her exsphere. "Is that really how they're made?"

Lloyd nodded. He touched the blue one on his right hand. "This one… I'm pretty sure this one was my mother's." It almost disturbed him, how peacefully the little stone rested on his hand. It hid its violence well.

Sheena sat still for a moment, examining hers. "You have no idea how many of these are hanging around in Tethe'alla. They power… everything."

"Yeah. I do," Lloyd said. "Too many." He pinched his right exsphere and took it off. "I don't think… Now that I've been through what they have, I don't know if I can use one."

"Good," Raine said. "If you donate it to the Regeneration, we could use it. We'll find a place to drop you off before we continue our journey."

"Seriously, Raine," Genis mumbled. "You don't have to be so cold."

"To be completely blunt, Lloyd," Raine continued, ignoring her brother. "I'm not sure if you'll be of much use to us anyway. I know you're Genis' classmate and he trusts you, but as far as I know you're still as much of an assassin as she was." Raine gestured to Sheena, and Lloyd noted the deliberate  _was_. Clearly Sheena had failed her mission to kill the Chosen, but he had not had time to consider the possibility she had abandoned her home world altogether. "And you impulsively endangered all of us by chasing down that Desian officer—"

"Jeez, Raine, give him a break!" Genis said. "You don't know what he went through."

"Still, I would like to know what that man was to you. Clearly he was more than just an overseer, given what you did to him."

The realization of Kvar's fate came back to him slowly. Lloyd's heart pulled itself apart trying to sink and rise at the same time. He had had his revenge, he had cut down the bastard… so why could he hardly remember it? It was like he had briefly lost his mind, he was so bent on wiping the smile off the bastard's face… It was like he had been struck with some sort of sickening blindness, some darkness that had eaten him at that moment and had only spat him back out after Kvar was already dead.

Fear bubbled up from the pit of his stomach when he thought of his own brutality. It was precisely that kind of violence that had always scared him, so it worried him how it came to him so easily. What if he was slowly but surely turning into the kind of man that would cut down another man without a second thought? What if he was turning into—

His father. There was also the problem with his father, and the accusation that he had been the one who had killed his mother. What could Kvar gain by telling Lloyd a lie like that? Besides, perhaps, entertainment. Yes, Kvar just wanted to toy with his head a little; that was how he worked, that was his motive.

"Lloyd! I asked you a question." Raine's stern command brought him back to the present. He looked at her, brow furrowed, and decided that he might as well be honest.

"Kvar. He ran the ranch. He tortured me, he made me... He killed my… well, he didn't kill my parents… he made… damn." Lloyd didn't know how to continue. The others patiently waited for his answer, intrigued. "He made my father… he knows where my father is. He's working for the man that kidnapped him. Yggdrasill."

"Why would Desians want your father?" Raine asked. "Is he someone important?"

Lloyd shook his head. "No, he's not… but, maybe he knew something he shouldn't have. He did know about the two worlds, and the Tower of Salvation. He even knew when it was going to appear. That's where he got kidnapped."

"Wait," Raine said. "You're saying the Desians attacked your father at the Tower of Salvation?"

"Yeah," Lloyd answered. "I was there too, but I got out. To Tethe'alla."

Raine rubbed her chin for a few moments. "So the Desians are a much bigger organization than we could've imagined."

"Raine?" Genis looked at her thoughtfully.

"Think about it. This Kvar, who is high enough up on the Desian chain of command to run his own ranch, was involved in the capture of Lloyd's father. Ostensibly the ordeal took place at the Tower of Salvation, and that means that at least some Desians have access to the Tower. Which also means that it's possible they have access to the Church of Martel, and by extension, the Chosen."

"What?" Genis said. "You think Colette's a Desian?"

"Of course not," Raine spat back. "Don't be like that, Genis. I'm only saying that, from what little we know, they seem to have some interest in the Regeneration..." She trailed off.

"Well, yeah they do," Genis said. "They want to stop it. If Colette succeeds, it's the end of them."

She ignored him. "I suspect that for now, there isn't much we can do except complete the Regeneration. We must be especially wary of Desians in the future."

"Where is the Chose—Colette—anyway?" Lloyd asked. She was the only one suspiciously absent from the conversation.

"She went to gather supplies," Sheena said. "There are a lot of things left here that we might need on the journey."

"Journey?" Lloyd asked.

"The Regeneration," Sheena said. "You missed quite an adventure."

"So did you," he sighed. "Where are my clothes? I think I need… I need to find my stuff and go. I need to get out of here."

"You need to rest," Raine said.

"I'm fine… I just don't want to be in Luin anymore. I don't want to stay here."

"I don't blame you," Sheena muttered as he made his slow but steady way down the crumbling remains of the hall and found what was left of the room he had slept in. He rummaged through the debris, moving aside broken furniture, old stones, and collapsed roof beams. Eventually he found some of his clothes intact, and his father's leather-bound book unharmed. He also managed to pull out Virginia's diary, whose cover was nearly burnt off but whose pages seemed intact. He slipped it into his bag with his other surviving possessions, not wanting to think about telling Genis and Raine about it. He wondered if they already knew of Virginia, or if they even knew they were half-elves. Maybe they thought they were full-blooded. He didn't want to break that bad news to them, at least not at this juncture. Raine didn't seem to trust him anyway, and she didn't seem too eager to let him stay with them—but if he could use her bloodline as leverage…

No. He wouldn't do that. Not after everything she had done for him, despite her distrust. He decided he would hide the diary for now, and packed it away among his other belongings before returning to the front room, where the others sat in a wordless circle.

"I'm going to wash before we go," Lloyd said, shattering the fragile silence.

"There's no running water left here anymore," Sheena said, "but there's still a lake. I can show you down to the water and catch you up on what you missed."

"Thanks." Lloyd let Sheena help him carry his things as he walked past the rubble, collapsed buildings, through streets littered with valuables that citizens discarded in the frenzied panic to save their own skins. Jewelry, toys, photographs, even small pieces of furniture here and there. He made his way down to the water, lay his bag on a patch of grass and removed a change of clothes.

"You're limping still," Sheena said. "Are you sure you want to leave so soon?"

"Probably as much as you do," he said. He gestured to the collapsed buildings around them, the broken fences, the discarded weapons, the small craters where grenades had detonated—all signifiers of their failure to protect the city.

"Yeah… I'm not a fan of the place either," she admitted. "But you're not in great shape to travel."

"I'm better than I've been in a long time," he said. After a moment of thought, he placed his right exsphere carefully on top of his extra clothes. "So, where are we going?"

"To the next seal," Sheena said. She turned around while he peeled off his bloodstained rags and stepped in. "I've decided… well, to put off the assassination for now."

Lloyd couldn't help the intense sigh of relief that flowed from him as he lowered himself into the water. "So… what happened?"

"Those guys found me injured by the fountain. I didn't know if I was the only one left in Luin—I was alone for what seemed like hours. Except for Corinne, of course. I think the Desians left me because they didn't think I'd be of any use to them with a wound like mine."

"And the Chosen helped you," Lloyd guessed. The freezing water sent pangs of energy through him, painful but still somehow refreshing. He forced himself to wade deeper, clenching his teeth, heart pounding.

"She did. Especially after I told her all about my world and the dangers of—"

"You told her about Tethe'alla?"

"What else was I supposed to do? How else can I justify trying to assassinate the Chosen? I know I can't stop her unless I kill her. And I'm not going to do that."

"So you're traveling with her instead?"

"Yeah. I figured if I hung around her, I might learn of a way to help both worlds… somehow." Sheena's back rose and fell when she sighed. "But we had to come find you first. I wasn't going to leave you in the ranch, not after you worked so hard to protect Luin. And… well, Genis wouldn't let us leave you, either. You never told me your  _schoolmate_ was traveling with the Chosen."

"I didn't think it mattered." Lloyd lowered himself into the water and began to wash away the stink of the ranch—the stink of sweat, blood, human waste. He could still smell Kvar on him, everywhere the Desian's blood had stained him. His chest, his arms, especially his hands. He rubbed the soap between his palms, trying to wash away not only the blood, but the memory of his horrifying rage. He looked down at his hand, at the disgusting red rock in his skin, and wondered if the strange hatred was housed somewhere in its glinting depths.

"I'm surprised the Chosen agreed to put the Regeneration on hold to come rescue me," he said.

Sheena chuckled. "It's not that surprising, once you get to know her. Raine was more of the hard one to convince. She said Regeneration is the only way to rid the world of Desians, and that we shouldn't bother with you, but we worked on her. Eventually she agreed. But we sure took our time, didn't we?" She shifted on the bank, glancing over her shoulder at Lloyd half-submerged in the freezing water. "I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to take so long. We spent a long time trying to figure out a way to get in, but then we heard about Pedro. We eventually got him to talk, but we had to… well, it's a long story. I made a pact with Undine on the way."

"A summon spirit?" he asked.

"Yeah, watch." Sheena raised her hand and the water around Lloyd rippled with an almost unnerving life. "Undine, warm up the lake a bit."

"Wait—" Before he could warn her not to boil him alive, a current of hot water rose past him, washing his goose-pimpled skin with relief. "Oh… uh, thanks." He sank back into the water and shivered out the last of his chill—he thought he could see a smiling, feminine blue face in the bubbles and steam for a split second. "Is Corinne jealous of your new spirit?" he asked.

"Hah!" Sheena's shoulders shook. "He hasn't talked to me in days. He's been following Colette around, chattering on about how much he likes her. And I can't even be mad at him. We all like her. She's probably the kindest soul I've ever met." Sheena stood as Lloyd sank deeper into the warmed water. "I do think you two would really hit it off. She reminds me a little of you."

"Why?" There was no way he could imagine he was anything like the lovely, kind-faced girl who had befriended her own assassin.

Sheena shrugged. "Because she's the kind of person who would put the entire world Regeneration on hold just to save someone she barely knows."

He smiled. "I guess we tried that with Luin, didn't we?"

"Oh yeah. We tried." Sheena shifted in the grass. "You know, I half suspect you wanted to turn around to save Luin just so you didn't have to kill the Chosen."

"What?"

"Yeah. I saw the way you stared at her at Thoda. All wide-eyed, red-faced, like you were a voyeur looking through her window with those little binoculars of yours."

" _Please_ ," Lloyd groaned. The skip of his heart when he had looked at her from afar had come from her holiness as a Chosen, and nothing more. She did have a strange sort of gravitation, though, even from a distance.

"Can't say I blame you." He couldn't see Sheena's wink, but he could practically hear it in her voice. "She's a goddamn delight. I started out wanting to kill her, and now apparently I get to be the speaker at her funeral. I told her it was too far in the future to plan for that sort of thing." Sheena shook her head. "She's an easy girl to like. You'll see, once you start talking to her. But first, you should really finish washing. You're half clean and I can still smell you from here." Sheena brushed off her knees and retreated. "Come back up to the house when you're done. I'll pack for you."

"Thanks, Sheena." She shrugged and trotted from the lakeside, leaving Lloyd alone in the warm water. He washed himself in earnest, without worrying that anyone might watch, bobbing in the pleasant water and sighing. He floated on his back, staring at the carefree passing clouds. He still couldn't quite believe that he was here, back in the outside world. That Kvar was dead and he was safe, that he would have a chance to make up for his wrongs and retrieve his father. There were some signs of his hardship he'd have to carry with him for a while—his hardened limbs and scarred skin, his eyes ringed purple with fatigue and his too-prominent ribcage. These could heal. There was only one injury that truly worried him.

He scrubbed his left hand, trying to see if the water could wash the exsphere away. Lloyd knew it wouldn't, but he found himself rubbing his hand raw anyway, until the pain shot up his arm in jolts so intense he had to stop. He flipped over and smoothed out what remained of his hair, and tried to relax. He told himself not to think of his father, or Kvar, to only consider where he was now and what he had to do next, but he couldn't exactly stop himself. Now that his mind found itself unoccupied solely with killing the Cardinal and escaping the ranch, it freely wandered and would not be penned in.

Lloyd had to consider the possibility Kvar had lied to him about his father. He had accused Kratos of killing his mother, just to rile Lloyd up, to torture him a little. Something in him believed the Desian lord, mostly because his dad always refused to talk about Anna. Whenever Lloyd brought her up, things always went south, so he learned never to broach the subject with him. But still, there was a tiny part of him that knew, that almost remembered...

He forced the thought away. He would doubt. He would doubt everything Kvar said before the end. The bastard was a liar and a murderer. Of course he would try to turn Lloyd against his father. It was only logical. Kvar was not a man who simply knew the benefits of tactically dividing and conquering, he thrived on manipulation. Lloyd had no doubt that Kvar could easily and gladly conceive the most heinous of lies, if it served no other purpose than to bring him a little satisfaction in forcing Lloyd to hear them.

As he washed the last signs of his internment off him, he vowed to confront his father with all of it. Kratos probably knew everything about this whole affair with the Desians and the Regeneration—after all, that's what they had captured him for, wasn't it? Lloyd wished that he at least had the slightest clue about what was going on, since he was already caught up in this whole mess. Maybe he and his father were on the Desians' radar for different reasons. His father for knowing too much, and him for… well… he instinctively scratched at the exsphere growing from his hand and winced at the pain.

Lloyd pulled himself from the water and dried off. He had his pants halfway pulled up when he heard a hurried shuffling. He glanced up to see a head of golden hair retreat behind the grassy lakeside hillock, and recognized it as the Chosen's.

"Wait," he called. "It's all right, I'm decent."

"I'm sorry." Her soft voice preceded her, rolling over the hill before she followed, a little red-faced and clutching a bucket. "I just came to get some water—Sheena said you'd probably be out already."

"I am, so you can come on down." She stumbled up to the lakeshore, smiling, as Corinne followed in her wake.

"I hope you're feeling all right," she said, blue eyes shining.

"As good as I've been in a while," he answered. When he buttoned his shirt, he felt like a new man—a scrawny, beat-up but relatively clean new man.

"I was worried, you know… Is it true? How they make exspheres? Raine told me."

"Yeah." He looked her over, at her kind face, her gold hair, the strange jewel embedded in a choker around her neck. "Do you use an exsphere too?" he asked, pointing to it.

"This? Oh, no. It's my Cruxis Crystal. It's similar, but Chosens get them."

"What does it do?"

"About the same thing as an exsphere. But when I pray at a seal, it helps with the… transformation."

"Transformation?" Lloyd had thought he'd seen wings rise from her back when he was fighting Kvar, but he didn't know if it had been a dream or not. At that moment he had been so consumed with rage he had a hard time remembering anything. "Transformation into what?"

"Into a... true Chosen."

He picked up his own bluish exsphere, looking it over. It seemed like nothing but a dead gem in his hand, glowing dully. He couldn't believe that this was all that was left of his mother. He wondered if she had to go through the same things he had. He gripped the stone and bit his lip, turning back toward the lake. He stared at it for a moment in silence, lifting his eyes from the rock to the water, then back to the rock. The blues of their bodies were almost indistinguishable.

"Lloyd… are you going to throw that into the lake?" Strangely, Lloyd sensed no judgment in Colette's voice, only curiosity. The Chosen bent down to the water and filled her bucket.

"I don't know."

"I don't think you should."

His eyes snapped to hers, and he told his mind to discard the angry retorts— _What would you know about it? Where do you get off telling me what to do with my own exsphere?_ When he saw her kind smile, the anger died in his head.

"I won't stop you," she said. "It's your choice. But…"

"Why shouldn't I, then?" He looked at the exsphere in his right hand, to the one growing on his left.  _Two seems a bit much, doesn't it?_ he thought.

"Well, I can't blame you for wanting to," Colette said. "And I think you should throw it away. In the end. But it's hard to survive in the world without one. You might need it soon. And besides… Raine says it'd be a waste."

"And you listen to Raine?" he asked.

She smiled, eyes bright. "She's my teacher."

Despite his best efforts, he found himself releasing a nervous laugh. "I guess it might be a waste." He looked at the water, whispering more to his reflection than to Colette. "This… this is one of the only things I have left of my mother. I don't know if I'm really ready to say goodbye." He snapped the little gem back onto his hand and turned away from the water.

"I'm sorry," Colette said. He stepped from the shore and let her lead him along the paths back to what remained of the city. "You can always throw it in the lake later. If you throw it now and regret it, it'll be hard to find it again."

"I guess it would be." She did have a good point when he thought about it.

"Hey, Lloyd," Genis greeted from the half-collapsed doorway of the mayor's house. "You're clean. And you brought us Colette."

The Chosen knelt to empty the water into a cooking pot while Genis set a fire under it. Raine leaned back against a splintered column, book in hand, but she raised her eyes when Lloyd neared. The others occupied themselves with dinner, and Raine set her book on her knee, cupping her chin with her free hand. "So, Lloyd. What's your decision? Are you going to throw that exsphere out?"

"I thought about it," he answered.

"But you didn't."

"No. I didn't."

"Genis says we should keep you with us," she said. "He's very worried about you. After all, you're the only friend he's ever mentioned to me." She sighed. "So I'm obligated to ask if you're willing to accompany us on the Regeneration journey."

"I would like to come," Lloyd said. "And I'll try to help as best I can." He tried to keep his voice honest. He knew that he might not be able to go through with it, might not be able to condemn Tethe'alla in favor of Sylvarant, but if he could get to the Tower, that might bring him one step closer to finding his father. If the Chosen could lead him there, he would do his best to keep her safe.

Raine's sharp senses picked up his ulterior motives. "Look, Lloyd. I'll be honest with you. I don't know you. I can trust you even less than I can trust Sheena over there, and she was hired to kill all of us. Keeping an eye on her is hard enough. I think that the best thing you can do for our cause is lend us that exsphere and be on your way." His hand instinctively covered the exsphere in question, as if he expected Raine to try to take it. "But… the others trust you. And so for the time being, against my better judgment, I will too. But if you ever make me suspect you'll hurt the Chosen, I won't hesitate to do what is necessary. Even if Genis is against it. Even if he tries to stop me. Consider yourself warned."

Lloyd looked her over, at her slender arms and cold eyes, at the book in her lap. She seemed more of an egghead than a fighter, but if she shared the same talent for magic that boosted Genis through the ranks at the Academy, he had no doubt she could probably set fire to him in the blink of an eye. "Yes'm," he said. It came out instinctively, as it did when he addressed his schoolmistresses.

Raine narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't betray us."

"I won't. Of course I won't. You really think that after all this, I don't want to see the Desians driven away? You think that I would try to stop the Regeneration? I… I don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone else." Lloyd held his hand against his temple to stop the sudden ache in his head. "I'm going to keep my exsphere and I'm going to do good with it. Throwing it away will only waste the sacrifice of the person who died to make it."

"Wise words." Raine's eyes softened, and her frown relented for half a second. She lowered her head back into her book and licked a finger before she turned the page. He watched her read, watched her icy blue eyes flit over the surface of the paper, and couldn't help thinking about how much she looked like Virginia.


	12. Colette

The last seal, which the Chosen's party had deduced was at the Tower of Mana, was still a long ways away. As they set out from Luin, Lloyd wondered if his tired legs could keep up with his more well-fed companions. He knew he couldn't help much with their Regeneration project, not in the state he was in. He could only hope that in time, he would recover his strength. He didn't want to be a burden, but more so he didn't want to be left alone. He would have to make sure that he did all he could to keep up, to never let himself fall behind, lest the others leave him. He would have no other way to the Tower. He would have no other way to get to his father.

"And then there's the problem with your… second exsphere," he heard Raine say. He shook himself back into the moment. "With the help of the Boltzmann book, we may be able to find a way to safely remove it. If we can use that key crest you already have, we might be able to get it off without killing you. It's only a possibility, though."

"Man, you don't mince words, do you?" Sheena muttered.

Lloyd stared at the ground. The hand with the steadily growing exsphere twitched, burning slightly. Then he felt cold fingers wrap around his, and the burning stopped almost instantly. He turned to see the Chosen, smiling kindly, holding his hand.

He almost flinched at the overfamiliar gesture, but she touched him with such nonchalance, such ease, it almost struck him as if she were comforting a dog. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Raine's the best healer around."

_Just like her mother_ , Lloyd found himself thinking. Gods, when could he tell them? What if the Chosen knew she was traveling with half-elves? What about Sheena? Coming from Tethe'alla, she must have some lingering sentiments about the racial hierarchy.

Colette seemed to sense his apprehension and squeezed his hand. It was an oddly comforting sensation; it seemed to soothe his skin and send the dark ache back into his exsphere where it belonged. He still found it baffling how she could warm up to him so easily, despite everything he'd done. The assassination attempt, the failure to protect Luin, his savage and mindless act of vengeance against Kvar. Either she was entirely forgetful or impossibly forgiving, maybe a little bit of both.

She let him go, and he fell into step beside her. "So, Colette…" he started. She gave him an expectant smile. "You're all right with me tagging along?"

"Of course."

"But you don't  _really_ know me."

"That doesn't matter," Colette said. "You're a citizen of Sylvarant. You're always welcome in my presence. After all, I was born to serve you. All of you."

"But," he continued, trying to put it delicately. "I, uh, I take it Sheena's told you the situation with the other world—"

"Yes," Colette said, smile fading. "I… I don't really know what to do. None of us do. But I have to complete the Regeneration anyway. The people of Sylvarant are counting on me."

"I guess they are," Lloyd said. "Everywhere I go in this world, there are mana shortage problems." He thought of the crop failures, the bad weather, the appearances of feral animals from the wilderness to harass townsfolk (his father had defeated more than a few to put some extra coin in their pockets). "And I'm sure Tethe'alla will be mana-rich enough to survive for a few years while we figure out a way to save both worlds."

"From the way Sheena talks about it, it sounds like it," the Chosen said. "That would… that would really make me happy. If we could help them both."

"Yeah." Lloyd thought of his father, glancing at the sliver of a Tower in the distance, rising above the hills. If there were a way to save both worlds, it would be there, at the stone thread that connected them. And if anyone knew how to do it, it was Kratos. He always knew more than he let on. Always.

*

A few miles outside of Luin, Sheena suddenly stopped in her tracks, shushing them. "There's something there. Just in those trees. Be careful." They all raised their respective weapons, waiting for a crazed bear or troupe of Desians, but what emerged from the shadows was something entirely unexpected.

"Monster!" Genis yelled, and Raine instinctively shoved Colette behind her. Sheena raised her cards, chanting a spell, but Lloyd ran toward the monster, arms open, dropping his sword.

"Noishe!" He tackled the animal, wrapping his arms around it. It whined with excitement and licked his face. "Good boy! Good dog!" Noishe looked about as healthy as Lloyd did—scruffy, malnourished, and probably flea-infested. They had both been through some tough times, he guessed.

"What are you doing, Lloyd?" Genis yelled, and Colette emerged from behind Raine to see what was going on.

"Guys! This is my dog, Noishe. He's a good boy." Noishe sat beside him, wagging his tail, no doubt trying to make a good impression.

"Lloyd," Raine started, with a look of utter bewilderment on her face.

"That's… not a dog," Genis finished.

Lloyd examined Noishe's green fur, his gargantuan ears, his sweet face. "Of course he's a dog."

"Well, he's a cute… thing," Sheena said, crossing her arms. "But I'm not so sure he's a dog."

Colette walked toward Noishe. "Hello, puppy," she said, extending her hand. Her foot caught on a root and she fell forward, landing on Noishe with a soft  _thump_. The animal seemed pleased that this human was so excited to see him, and he heartily licked her face.

"See?" Lloyd said.

"Colette, be careful," Raine said. "Whatever it is, it may bite—"

"He's a  _dog_! What is wrong with you people?" Lloyd cried.

"Of course he's a dog!" Colette said, wrapping her arms around Noishe's giant neck. "If Lloyd says he's a dog, he's a dog." The Chosen laughed, scratching his ears, right where he liked it.

Lloyd couldn't help smiling as he helped Colette up off the ground and pulled an affectionate Noishe off her. They turned to the rest of the group, waiting for approval of their new friend. Genis glanced at Raine, who glanced at Sheena. Sheena shrugged, Raine shook her head, and Genis grinned, running to greet their four-legged companion.

Noishe slept close to the fire that night, obviously relieved to have some human company. He rolled on his back, yawning, ears twitching happily. He lay beside Colette and Sheena, who stirred the pot on the fire, conversing quietly. Lloyd couldn't help smiling at her soft features, her kind eyes, and her perplexing ability to befriend the woman hired to kill her. Lloyd watched them for a while, cleaning his sword, and for the first time in months he thought that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out all right.

"Lloyd," Raine said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"May I see your sword?"

Lloyd instinctively gripped its hilt a little tighter. "You think I'm gonna try something?"

Raine sighed. "I told you that for now I would trust you. Don't give me a reason not to. Let me see that."

Lloyd reluctantly handed it over, and Raine took it from him like she was afraid it might break. She examined every inch of it, angling its blade to the firelight, and a smile crept onto her face. It grew and grew, until her eyes shone and her face reddened. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

"This is  _marvelous_. Where in the world did you get this?"

"Oh boy," Lloyd heard Genis mutter from behind him. "Here she goes."

"Lloyd, do you have any idea how old this sword is? Look at the steel, look at the fulvous hue, the curve of the blade, the gold in the pommel. And… and listen to this." She raised the sword to her ear—for a moment Lloyd thought he would have to stop her from cutting herself—and she flicked the blade. Lloyd heard nothing, but Raine sighed with delight as the vibrations of the steel entered her ear. "Ah, that ring. Polycarbonate-infused, forged in sacred flame, no doubt." She lowered the sword and looked accusingly at Lloyd. "Did you steal this? From a museum? From someone's private collection, perhaps?"

Lloyd raised his hands defensively. "No, ma'am. I found it, hidden away. It was my father's."

"Your… hmm. Perhaps a relic passed down over the ages. This is at least as old as the Ancient War." She lay it across her lap and ran her fingers along the flat of the blade. "Still sharp, still strong. Amazing." She squinted at the enigmatic writing embossed near the hilt. "Fl…amb. Flamberge."

"You can read that?" Lloyd asked excitedly.

"Of course. It's just an older form of Elvish. But gods, this script is so old, it's worn down to almost nothing. You haven't been taking care of this sword, have you?" Raine lay it down beside the fire, carefully, tenderly.

"Well—" Lloyd started.

"Lloyd, I can't allow you to continue using this priceless artifact as a weapon. You'll break it, swinging it around like a common stick. No, we need to find a safe place for this."

"Honestly, Raine," Genis muttered. "You need to get a grip."

She slapped Genis' arm. "This is an invaluable piece of history we have here. It's wasteful to actually use it."

"Jeez, sis, it's his sword, not yours. You can't just take other people's stuff. Even if it is valuable.  _Especially_  if it's valuable. There's a name for that. I think it's robbery."

"You stay out of this, Genis. You have no idea of the cultural and historical relevance of this item. As far as I'm concerned, this relic belongs to everyone. Just look at it! Imagine the battles this blade has seen, imagine tracing its history back to the Great War, imagine what we could learn about polycarbonate weaponry by studying this marvelous artifact. Technology like that has been lost for ages. You see, at the advent of the War, scholars were looking for a way to defend against magic—back then, mana was abundant and used as a power supply—so a professor of one of the larger universities (whose name has been lost) funded a research project to explore the defensive properties of…"

*

"Is she always like that?" Lloyd asked Genis the next morning, after he had fallen asleep halfway through Raine's four-hour lecture.

"Ugh," Genis groaned. "Only once you get her started. Mostly about historical things. She's a little too succinct when it comes to other stuff. Like things I actually need help with."

Lloyd stuffed their bedrolls into Genis' oversized pack. "Hey. Thanks for convincing her to give it back to me. How did you do that, anyway?"

"Oh. No problem. After you passed out, I told her that a sword that had lasted for four thousand years could last a few more. It was 'insulting the integrity of the craftsmanship' to refuse to use the thing. I started some weepy monologue about how we have to respect objects' intended purposes and all that teleological drivel."

Lloyd grinned. "I have no idea what you just said. But thanks anyway."

"Don't worry about it, Lloyd." Genis folded a few clothes and packed them away. "So what was your dad even  _doing_ with a sword like that?"

"Honestly? No clue. I found some other weird stuff of his, too."

"Where?"

"Oh, he hid some of this stuff away in Tethe'alla—"

"I can't believe your dad knew about that place."

"Yeah. He told me not to tell anyone."

"But  _why_?"

"I don't know. I think that's one of the things I'm gonna ask him when I see him again."

They finished packing, kicked dirt on their fire pit, and started walking. "So do you even know what happened to your dad?" Genis asked.

"Not… really," Lloyd admitted. "We were attacked at the Tower of Salvation—I don't know, maybe by old enemies of his—and he sent me to Tethe'alla. He threw a banishment spell at me."

"You mean the ones that are lost to history?" Genis asked, doubt in his voice. "The ones the masters at the academy can't teach me because they don't even  _exist_  anymore?"

"I'm telling you, he did it. He cast a banishment spell, and I woke up in—" Here, he paused, thinking he should probably leave out the bit about Virginia and discovering his best friend was secretly a half-elf. "I woke up in Tethe'alla, found some of Dad's old stuff, ran into Sheena and… well… got caught up in this whole assassination mess." He slowed, suddenly guilty. "The man who sent Sheena and me said if I ever wanted to see my dad again, I'd—"

"I know, I know," Genis smiled. "You always have an excuse for all the stupid stunts you pull. Trying to assassinate the Chosen was by far the stupidest."

Lloyd laughed. It felt nice to have someone to talk to after all that time behind fences, alone and perpetually exhausted. When they took breathers every few miles or so, he would piece together parts from his adventures—their journey through the desert, chasing down the Chosen's party in Thoda, the battles in Luin. Colette and Genis listened attentively, Raine scouted ahead, pretending not to hear, and Sheena hovered over him only to swoop down with corrections regarding his slight exaggerations on her sudden fall into the mineshaft.

By the time it got dark and they set up camp, Lloyd had gotten as far as the ranch. From there, he didn't know if he could continue. Luckily for him, the others occupied themselves with building a fire and getting food ready, and they didn't push him to talk about it. Instead Sheena stirred the pot and Colette unrolled her sleeping gear.

"One of you, near the food pack," Sheena said without taking her eyes from the pot, "Can you throw me some coriander?"

"Why don't you let me cook once in a while?" Raine asked, handing her a bundle of dried herbs.

"Because we value our lives," Genis replied.

His sister leaned over to give him a smack to the back of the head. "You have some studying to do, Genis, so get to it."

"Aw, sis, come on."

"World Regeneration is no excuse to quit school." Genis groaned but pulled a giant book from his pack. "You too, Lloyd. If you're serious about coming with us then you have to learn some things. Since you two go to the same school you can use his books."

"What?" Lloyd spat. "I don't… I can't… I wouldn't be able to keep up." His father never made him study on his trips. But then again, his father didn't seem to care that much about his grades.

"Nonsense," Raine said. "From now on, you're Genis' classmate, and that makes me your teacher. So you'd better let Genis help you catch up."

"Some good that'll do," Genis muttered. "Lloyd's not, how do you say it, the sharpest pin in the cushion. In fact, he might be the cushion."

"Genis! If he goes to your school, he's smart enough."

"Um…" Lloyd looked for an escape. "I'm going to go take a leak—a walk. Both. Whatever." He strode out of their small campsite and into the dark, creeping along until the dull orange glow of the fire disappeared behind him. When he was sure he was far enough away that Raine wouldn't follow him with a textbook, he found a grassy ledge and sat to look at the stars. They were dim this evening, obscured by smoke. A pillar of ash ballooned up into the sky miles away, where the remains of the human ranch still smoldered. He thought about what happened to everyone who escaped. They didn't seem to have gone back to Luin—maybe they were flooding Asgard, or Hima. He wondered if there was enough food for all the escapees, or if they had anywhere to go. He shook his head. Anywhere was better than the ranch.

"Are you watching the sky?" The Chosen appeared from the shadows of the trees, making to sit beside him. Somehow he wasn't startled by her sudden presence—it was more comforting than anything. He was just amazed that Colette had slipped past Raine's protective radar to come find him.

"Uh. Yeah."

"Do you know all the constellations?"

"Most of them. My dad taught them to me when I was a kid. I'd sit on his shoulders and—" Suddenly memories flooded him and his heart felt like it was being squeezed dry. He put his hand to his forehead. "And we'd look at them together." And his mother was there, he was pretty sure. Or maybe she wasn't. Was she dead by then? Gah, he couldn't think.

Colette's hand found rested on his shoulder and his head instantly cleared. He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked at her. He suddenly didn't want her to take her hand from him.

"Does Raine make you study too?"

She shook her head. "This late in the Regeneration, there wouldn't be much of a point."

"Why not?"

"Well, I… Well…"

Lloyd tilted his head at her and patted her hand. She didn't seem to be able to feel it.

"I'm the Chosen. My job doesn't really involve school."

"Oh. I guess you're more concerned with saving the world, huh?"

She nodded, smiling sadly. Lloyd got a terrible feeling in his gut, like he was a trapped animal, but he couldn't say why. He scooted closer to Colette instead.

"Besides," she said. "School was hard for me. It was difficult for me to make friends."

Lloyd looked at his feet. "When I was little, I didn't have any friends either. I wasn't allowed to talk to the other kids, at least when my dad was around. I didn't make any friends until I went to school, and then… well… it was only Genis. But I had a weird life, moving around a lot. I can't imagine you being friendless. You're the Chosen."

"I think that was part of the reason why."

"Really?"

She nodded.

"Well, who wouldn't want to be friends with the Chosen? You're famous."

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"I'll be friends with you," he said. A clumsy grin plastered itself on her face. Blood suddenly rushed to Lloyd's head, and he remembered Sheena's teasing at the lake. He turned red and god up, retreating beyond arm's reach. "Um… well, the soup must be ready by now. You wanna go eat?"

Colette followed him back to camp, but she didn't eat much. She tried to make it look like she was eating, but she wasn't—Lloyd had seen it before with his dad. He decided to keep an eye on her to make sure she was all right.

Over the next few days, he and Colette would chat nightly, sometimes well into the early morning. She never seemed to get tired, and when Lloyd would wake up the next day, she would already be up an about, playing with Noishe, cooking breakfast or humming to herself.

Often, he would shake himself awake from nightmares, sometimes several times a night, and Colette would be there instantly, as if it was her job to watch over him while he slept.

The first time he bolted upright in the night only to find Colette sitting next to him, he thought he had woken everyone in camp. "Oh, crap," he whispered to her. "Did I scream or something? Did I say anything embarrassing?"

She smiled at him. "No, no screaming, and you didn't say anything much. You've just been tossing for a while now."

"Oh. Sorry I woke you up."

She shrugged. "I was already up. It's all right. Just go back to sleep, there are still a few hours before dawn."

Lloyd lay his head back down and stared into the sky. Colette crossed her legs and began to hum, so Lloyd closed his eyes and let her sing him back to sleep. More often than not, she would stay up all night humming quietly to herself, while Lloyd and the others slept. He watched her carefully at meals, and even more carefully in those hours when she thought he was asleep. After a week or so, when the Tower of Mana rose close on the horizon, he knew. There was no doubt about it. Whatever ailment she had was the same as his father's.

_*_

_The Chosen is doing everything wrong. The Chosen and the entire system that made her._

Lloyd didn't know why Yuan's words decided to return to him at that moment. But when he looked at Colette's smiling face, her hands gesticulating as she told him an innocent story of her childhood, he could not help but think of the utter wrongness of it all. Lloyd's smile faded, and he told Yuan's thoughts to get out of his head. They weren't his own. Colette was doing nothing wrong. She was only thinking of her people.

"What's the matter, Lloyd?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing."

"Don't worry, everyone was fine in the end. We ended up finding the boar, and Genis, too. Raine was furious, but we all survived." She chuckled a little, but quieted when he didn't laugh with her.

"Hey… Colette," he began, uneasily. He looked around for a moment, making sure they were well out of earshot of the snoring camp. "You don't sleep, do you?"

"What?" Her innocent smile faded. "Of course I do."

"And you don't eat."

"Yes I do."

"You don't have to lie to me," Lloyd shook his head. "I've seen this before. My dad has the same problem you do."

"Is your dad an angel?" she blurted before covering her mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing, I shouldn't have said anything." She glanced nervously into the distance.

Lloyd frowned. "Don't worry, Colette. I won't tell anybody."

She looked at the ground. "Well, Raine already knows. I don't think Genis or Sheena do, though."

"Know what?"

"Every time I release a seal, every time I get a little closer to Regeneration, I become more and more like an angel."

"Yeah, I figured that might be the case. I've seen your wings, after all."

"But that means, well, every time I release a seal, that means that I lose something… something that I think… keeps me human." Lloyd put his hand on hers and she didn't seem to notice. "I stopped getting hungry. I stopped needing sleep. And now… Now I can't really feel anything. I'm worried that at the next seal, I'll—"

Lloyd squeezed her hand. "Hey. It's nothing to fret over, I'm sure."

"Really?"

"It might just be a side effect of the angel thing, but this… this disease or whatever it is you have, where you can't feel or taste or sleep, it's not going to kill you."

"It's… not…" Colette seemed confused.

"Yeah. My dad has had it since I've known him, and he's fine. And he's not an angel. He's probably more of a devil, anyway." Lloyd tried to laugh, but he couldn't help but think of the winged men who had attacked them at the Tower. Could it possibly be…

"In any case," he continued, shaking the thoughts from his head, "angel or not, you're still Colette."

"But Lloyd," she said, "becoming an angel means that I'm going to die."

He was rendered momentarily speechless. He looked into her eyes, and saw the surety in them, the same sort of surety he had when he had found himself at his lowest points in the human ranch. It was a hopeless sort of resignation, and it pained him to see it reflected in her face.

He squeezed her hand harder, unsure if she could even feel him. "Die? Hell no. Nobody has to die. I've seen too many people die already."

"But—"

"You'll be okay," he insisted. "You'll be okay, and I'll be okay, and my father will be okay. The worlds will be okay. It'll all be okay." The way he said it, he could almost believe himself.

She sighed, defeated, then flashed him a feeble smile. "Thank you, Lloyd. Thank you for everything. I really… I really appreciate these talks. No one else is willing to stay up late with me. It can get lonely at night."

"Ah, well, when you have nightmares, it's better to stay up and chat than sleep," he said with a mirthless chuckle.

"You know, I used to have nightmares a lot too. My worst one ever was about giant feet."

"What?" He laughed for real this time.

"Yeah, I had just… I don't know, broken something of my grandmother's, and she said, 'Colette, my dear, you have two left feet.' And for some reason… I dreamt about it that night—I couldn't get my right shoe on. Then I tried to go get two left shoes for myself, and when I did, they were too small, and so I went to get a bigger pair, but then  _those_ were too small. Every time I went to get another pair, my feet grew, until they were the size of carriages. They were so heavy I could barely move, and I was so ashamed, I woke up crying."

Lloyd stared at her for a moment, half in pity, half in amusement, until his laugh broke loose.

It was strange, those nights sitting there with Colette. For some reason, it was moments like this that made him feel as if he'd known her forever. Perhaps it was that peculiar sort of closeness one feels at night, even toward a complete stranger. Perhaps it was Colette herself, so friendly and warm, spending time each and every day to speak with everyone. But to Lloyd, it was if they shared something, something intangible, inexplicable, something that drew them toward one another. Each night of their journey, they uncovered a little more of it, like slowly excavating a fossil.

"I think maybe in our past lives we were trees," Colette said one night, looking up at the sky.

"Huh," he said, eyes drooping. "Really?"

"We would always watch the sky at night, right here, in this very spot, for hundreds of years. We wouldn't talk, though, we would only rustle in the wind, and the breeze would carry our words for us. Until one day, a woodsman came and cut us down, and we became walls in his home. We lit his fires and became beds for his children."

Lloyd wasn't quite sure if he liked the ending of her little story. "I think I'd like to be a tree again someday," he yawned.

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, trees don't worry. They don't have to kill or fight. And they don't dream."

Colette looked back into the sky. "No, they don't. No dreams, no nightmares. What do you dream about, Lloyd?"

"I don't remember," he lied. "I don't remember at all."

*

"All right, Lloyd. I've done enough research that I think I'll be able to remove it. Take off your other exsphere."

They had stopped in the valley before the Tower of Mana, in the rustling trees. Raine sat beside him, medical text open and ready. In a pot over the fire boiled what Lloyd could only guess were surgical tools. He gulped.  _Pull yourself together,_   _Lloyd_ , he told himself,  _you've been through this before—dozens of times. It'll be less painful than the exams at the ranch._

He removed what he had come to think of his mother from his right hand, and felt cold and helpless as soon as he did. He separated the key crest from the exsphere and moved it to his left hand, where it didn't quite fit the crystal growing there. He sighed, and hoped this would work.

"Is the key crest on?" Raine asked. Sheena, Colette and Genis watched from a few feet away, as if afraid to approach the operation.

"Just don't blow him up like you do your cooking and we'll be fine," Genis said, probably only half-joking.

"Sheena. Smack him for me."

"Ow! Jeez, not you too."

Raine looked at Lloyd in all seriousness. "Are you ready?"

He nodded nervously. Raine retrieved her tools from the water and went to work. He tried not to watch but couldn't help himself. Raine first cleaned his hand, slowly and meticulously, then bent over it with a scalpel. He flinched at the sharp sting of the metal, but it was no worse than his usual checkups. Then he felt the exsphere pull at his skin. Just moving the thing hurt like hell, but this was like nothing he'd ever felt before. His head swirled, his vision blurred—it felt like a thick mud was tumbling through him. The burning pain spread from his exsphere, along his limbs, and out through his skin. He was on fire, black fire, it spread into every vein and into every muscle, turning him to stone. The scream that came from him wasn't his; it was monstrous, evil, so utterly tortured that even he couldn't stand it.

And then the pain was gone. His vision cleared and he saw Raine, looking terrified, bloody scalpel still in hand. He glanced down at his arm and his jaw dropped. His veins looked like they were bursting from his greenish skin, his hand was clenched, deformed. He yelled in pain and dismay, arm trembling, until whatever disease his exsphere contained seemed to seep back into the stone, and his arm slowly returned to normal. He clutched his throbbing hand, terrified.

"Forgive me," Raine said, shaking. "I couldn't, I just…"

"It's all right," he managed to say, flexing his quivering arm. He had never heard of a safe removal of an exsphere, once implanted. He didn't know why he'd been so optimistic about this. He'd seen many people go into the medical wing of the human ranch to get theirs removed, and they only came out again to go to the crematorium, withered, grey, and most definitely dead.

It pained him to say it, but he knew it had to be said. "How long do I have?" he asked.

Raine sighed. "I don't know. If we find a key crest that fits it, then we might be able to buy you some time, but I'm not sure how long. I'm sorry, Lloyd."

He stood up, stilling his arm and taking a deep breath. "Well, either way, we have to finish the Regeneration, or else this sort of thing will keep on happening." He tapped his exsphere and flinched at the pain.

"Lloyd…" Colette stepped toward him. He looked into her eyes and saw a very familiar sadness.

It was that moment when he realized it. It was a look he had seen a hundred times in a hundred gaunt human faces around him, and in his own. It was the unmistakable expression of the condemned.

Somehow, deep in their guts, Lloyd and Colette both knew they ran on borrowed time. No matter how much Lloyd might want to convince himself otherwise, how much he might tell himself—even how much he might believe—that he could be saved, that Colette and his father and the whole world could be saved, he couldn't escape the looming prospect of death. No matter what he did or how he ran, he couldn't escape that exsphere, and he knew it.

And he had no doubt that it was exactly how Colette felt about the Regeneration. They were both chained to these symbols of their mortality, no matter how much they told one another not to worry about it. Perhaps that's what made them stay up in the night—they both knew that they only had so many nights left.

*

"To tell the truth," she said one evening as they stargazed at their usual time, "I'm not ready to die."

"None of us are," Lloyd said, eyes following a shooting star across the horizon. He was terrified even to think about either of them dying.

"I guess it wouldn't be so bad if people weren't afraid of getting close to me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's as if they already knew my fate, and didn't want to take the time to get to know a girl who wouldn't live that long."

"Their loss, Colette."

"Even my own father seemed… distant."

Oh boy. If there was anything Lloyd was an expert on, it was distant fathers. He sat up. "Eh, my dad was the same way. And I wasn't even the Chosen. He just didn't want me around." Maybe he was afraid Lloyd would find out what he did to his mother. Maybe it was pure guilt—no, he had to stop thinking that way. He had to stop believing Kvar. He wouldn't let the Desian influence him, especially not after he was already dead.

"Maybe he just wanted to keep you safe," Colette said.

He was about to ask, "From what?" when he remembered Kvar, the ranch, his mother. Then he knew why Kratos was such a coward when it came to Desians. With a sickening feeling, he realized that Kratos was afraid of them harvesting his son. It made sense to him, but he couldn't help as if the realization came too late. In the end, it didn't really matter, did it? The Desians got him, and he was going to die. And maybe after the exsphere sucked him dry, the Desians would rob his body and get both their precious Angelus exspheres back.

Colette seemed to sense his thoughts swinging in a dark direction, so she reached out for his hand and brought him back. Gods, who was he to despair about his own death when she had been damned from birth? He looked her over, her kind eyes, her hand enclosing his, and he frowned. "Don't worry," he said, uselessly. "I'm not going to let either of us die."

"I know," she said.

He lay down beside her, and folded his arms across his chest. He stared up at the stars, at the cold void of space between them, and felt his eyes flutter closed. Over his own quiet breathing, he could hear vibrations like light course through the air, and it took him a moment to realize that Colette had begun to sing. Her voice carried across the valley—it seemed to touch the sky and rebound back into his ears, comforting him.

He had heard the song before. It was an old tune, with a thousand different subtle versions—every singer in Sylvarant knew it. Even Lloyd's father, when he was absentminded or forgot his son was listening, would sometimes hum it to himself.

Rest easy, my darling,  
In the milky winter dawn,  
For I have loved you,  
And you have loved me.

I'm going home,  
I'm going back  
To where the waves break  
And summer never ends.

I will wait for you  
At the edge of the water,  
All I ask from you today  
Is that you kiss me once before I go.

*

Lloyd was asleep before Colette reached the second verse. She glanced down at him, lying peacefully on his back, edges of his eyes wet as if he had meant to cry but simply fell asleep before he could bother to. She smiled and returned her gaze to the sky.

She had had her whole life to prepare for her moment—but Lloyd had been swept up in death like a forceful river, unknowing, caught off his guard. He was going to have to do some serious coping if he was going to accept his fate—no. No, she wouldn't let that happen. What good was she as a Chosen if she couldn't even save one person? She would find a way to make him live. She would find him a key crest, a miracle worker, something. She would save him, save Raine and Genis and even Sheena, dear Sheena, who only wanted the best for her world. She would save the world—both worlds, and if she lost herself in the process, she would have to accept that. But right now, the only thing she could do was let Lloyd rest, and hover over him, keeping his nightmares at bay until well past dawn.


	13. Ghosts

Kratos thought he heard whispers of movement behind him. He tried to turn his head, but the stiff pain in his neck kept him facing forward. He looked down at himself and couldn't see what was holding him back, what was keeping his arms suspended and his legs still. He couldn't see anything at all except a landscape of absolute blackness. But he could still hear.

Rustling. Shuffling. Something was following him. Or it would be, if he were able to move. At that moment he knew something monstrous, something evil, would emerge from the all-encompassing darkness and devour him like a sacrifice on an altar. So be it. He would meet it when it came.

He steeled himself, preparing for a desperate struggle, but what appeared from the black expanse was not a monster, it was not death. It was a white-clad boy who shone and flickered like a star in the vastness of night. He grinned, spreading his arms and flowing toward Kratos, bringing the light with him.

Kratos smiled weakly. "Mithos…" was all he could whisper. His throat was too dry to speak properly. Otherwise, he would question that boy all day: what was he doing in a gloomy place like this, with so many monsters about? Did he have Lloyd with him? And on a night this dark, where were the stars?

Mithos floated like an apparition toward him, luminous and silent. He wrapped his arms around Kratos' waist and lay his head on his chest. Kratos felt the boy squeeze him tight, and regretted that his arms were too weak to return the favor. He only stood there, suspended in darkness, as Mithos embraced him.

"Kratos," the boy said, quietly. "I hope you know that I'm doing this because I care about you. I care about all of us."

"Doing what?" Kratos muttered, half-smiling at the kid. He was used to this; Mithos sometimes said some very strange—

Something pierced his back, digging into the tender area under his ribs. He gasped and tensed up, stretching his spine to escape the pain. His arms trembled but he still couldn't move them of his own accord.

"This will hurt less if you don't make a fuss about it."

What was... why...

Kratos groaned and opened his eyes. Everything was clouded in a purple haze, heavy and inescapable. He had no control over his own body, he couldn't stop the sharp pain crawling up his spine, he couldn't even cry out. His lungs felt like dust, his head like weakly smoldering ash.

Mithos stood before him—no, that wasn't Mithos. It was someone much older, much crueler… he just looked so much like him. But Kratos could be mistaken, he hoped he was mistaken; after all, he could hardly see anything. Wings fluttered around him, blue light crept in at the edge of his vision, and the pain continued. It made its way slowly but inexorably up his back, past his shoulders, down his arms. Wherever hands pinched his skin, a sharp poke followed, then a dull ache. He tried to move his head to examine what was happening to him.

"Don't do that," said the boy that was not Mithos. "You'll only make it worse."

Slowly, torturously, everything came back to Kratos, and he remembered where he was. He remembered this strange boy before him, the one who looked so much like Mithos, but who was so different, so much different… "What… are…" He could barely speak, he was so drained.

"Do you like it? It's my way of keeping you safe, until we get Martel back."

Kratos struggled to keep his eyes open, glancing to his right, then left, and back to his right before lowering his head. The things coming out of his arms looked like tubes, but for all Kratos could make out they could've been tall blades of grass or thin feathers. His arm twitched and a he felt a sharp pain where his skin had broken. He thought he could see blood drip, but he didn't know what that meant. He didn't know what any of it meant.

"You're a slippery man, Kratos," Mithos smiled. "Hard to catch, hard to keep. I don't think you'll be getting out of this one by yourself. I made sure of that. The machine's a recent invention by Rodyle, believe it or not. It enhances the mana seal, and keeps you healthy. Well, sort of. I can't have you wasting away on me, but I can't have you strong enough to escape either. So for now…" Mithos leaned in and embraced Kratos once more, careful to avoid the equipment now protruding from his back. "Rest. Wait. Martel will be with us soon, I know it."

Mithos let him go and backed up, followed by a flurry of wings.

Kratos couldn't tell if the blurry wave of feathers belonged to the Hero, or to his henchmen. He couldn't see anything, he couldn't… He tried to yell, to call out to Mithos, to tell him to stop, to threaten him, to smack some sense into him… but he could only groan.

"Oh, and Kratos," Mithos added. "If Yuan comes back to talk to you, say hello for me. Tell him his days are numbered." With a cheerful smile, Mithos again disappeared into the hazy darkness and left Kratos alone.

*

It took Lloyd a moment to realize why he recognized the Tower of Mana so easily. He squinted at the courtyard at its front, moss-covered and cracked with age, and remembered that he and his dad had camped out here once. They had set up tents in the building's looming shadow, where his father had decided it would be a wonderful idea to tell ghost stories. Lloyd remembered barely sleeping at all that night, jumping at every little sound, every little shadow. He didn't get to sleep until his father relocated his bedroll right next to his, and even then Lloyd couldn't rest until he was safely nestled in the crook of Kratos' arm.

Colette approached the door, hand outstretched. Lloyd, like any other visitor to this tower, knew the door had been sealed for years, but it creaked opened for the Chosen. They all made their way toward the darkened entrance, but Noishe, sensing danger, decided to wait outside.

"Will he be okay?" Colette asked.

"Yeah, he always is," Lloyd answered. "He's just kinda scared of everything."

So they left the dog in the shadow of the tower and followed the others inside. He examined the room around him to see bookshelves lining the walls, light pouring through stained glass windows—he had never seen a room so beautiful. "We've been here before," Genis told him as they passed over the checkered tiles.

"You have?" he asked.

"This was where we found that medical book that Raine's been using so much—the Boltzmann one. We had to use it to get Pedro to talk about how he escaped from the ranch."

"Yeah, that was a long journey," Sheena sighed, as if even remembering it were exhausting. "We had to get a unicorn horn."

"But we couldn't reach the unicorn, since it was at the bottom of the lake," Colette said. "So Sheena had to make a pact with Undine, the water spirit. It was amazing."

"Yeah, I heard." Lloyd wished desperately that he had been with them instead of being detained at the human ranch, but he supposed it was too late to regret it now.

They got lost in the deeper halls of the tower sometime during the afternoon, and when it got dark they built a fire in one of the building's many hearths. Lloyd broke a few chairs and threw the legs into the flames, and they all sat around the blaze. He tried to recall one of his father's stories, and after a few minutes he thought he had remembered enough to improvise.

"So, my dad told me this spooky story once," he said, and they all looked at him expectantly.

"I hate ghost stories," Sheena said, shivering.

"Tell us, Lloyd," Genis said.

"Okay, so there was this lady, and she had a lover, or, wait, it was the lord who had the common lover, but they couldn't be together. So they got together and killed themselves. Or wait, it was murder, and… she drowned or something. And then, in a fit of rage, he killed himself, and then, um, damn." He couldn't remember for the life of him.

"That's the worst ghost story I've ever heard," Genis said, visibly displeased.

"Shut up, Genis," Lloyd said. He was racking his brain, still trying to remember.

Sheena looked relieved, and Colette offered, "Well, at least it wasn't that long?"

"Perhaps we should save the ghost stories for a time when we are not literally surrounded by specters," Raine suggested helpfully.

"But that's just improving the ambiance," Genis said. "There's no better time to tell ghost stories. I know one, about two kids who were best friends, but one of them dared the other to sleep overnight in a haunted house…"

*

Lloyd dreamt of ghosts that night. Before him a weak fire crackled, and he had to keep stoking it, or else the shadows around him would catch up. He didn't know what the shadows might do once they descended on him, but he knew it was nothing he wanted to experience. So he piled logs onto the little fire, panic building, until he saw his father, sitting on the other side of the flames. He looked underfed and exhausted, but smiled when he saw Lloyd.

"Do you know why these doors are sealed?" he asked.

Lloyd, now about eight years old, shook his head. He continued stoking the fire, small body burdened with the weight of the logs.

"Well, there was once a great family who lived here—a duke of the Sylvarant Dynasty. He had a son, who was perfect in every way, except he was in love with the wrong woman."

Lloyd dropped the log, intrigued.

"She was a woman of lowly origin, but he loved her nonetheless. She worked the fields, had a strong back and a strong will. She insisted that if he really loved her, he take her as his bride even if his family disapproved. Well, he did, and his powerful family responded by locking him in the tower. They sealed the front door and vowed to never let him out until he declared that he no longer loved her—he never gave into their demands. He died up there at the top of the tower, but his lover never knew. She would come to the tower every day and try to convince the guards to let her in, but they turned her away every time. Years passed; she grew old and grey, but still every day she would go to the tower. Relentlessly, she searched for a way inside—she tried everything, every nook and cranny that might lead to a passage, every window that might open, every guard who might be bribed or convinced. But she never succeeded. One day, the family found her corpse on the doorstep, hand outstretched toward the door. Years afterward, the family's guards would report strange howls and the sounds of footsteps on this very terrace. She was still looking for him, and if anyone stood too close to a window or a door, she would push them out of the way to get inside. Sometimes, they would fall to their deaths. Nothing would stop her from getting in the tower to see her lover. So Lloyd, don't sleep too close to the door or she might get you."

Lloyd started crying with fear, then realized he was almost eighteen and was too old to be scared by this sort of thing. He stood up, shedding his eight-year-old body. "Dad," he said, regaining composure. "Tell me a ghost story about mom."

His father stared at the fire for a few solid minutes before lifting his face to him. He looked old, so very old. "Please don't make me do that," he said.

Lloyd was persistent. "I need to know. Tell me a story."

His father closed his eyes, resigned. "There once was a man who didn't deserve to be loved. And there was a woman who loved him anyway. She traveled with him, saved his skin a few times, even married him eventually. They had a son together, and for a short time all seemed like it was well. But the man had gotten mixed up with the wrong sort of people—they were out to get him. They came for him, but they got his wife instead. They tried to kill his son. And through all the hiding, the horror, the fear and pain, she loved him still. Contrary to all logic, she loved him, and she loved their son. And he repaid her by running her through. Or slitting her throat. It was quite a while ago—I can't remember every little detail."

Lloyd stood silently for a few moments. "There were no ghosts in that story."

"There's one right there," Kratos answered, pointing to the benevolent blue exsphere on Lloyd's hand. He lifted it and examined its unearthly light before turning back to his father, who was looking more and more like a ghoul each second.

"Dad?" he asked.

"What, Lloyd?"

"Did you really do it?"

Kratos didn't answer. Instead he looked up and said, "Someone's behind you."

Lloyd awoke with a jolt. He glanced behind him, but saw it was only Raine, reading by the dim firelight. He sat up.

"Can you not sleep?" he asked her. "Was it Genis' ghost story?"

"Oh no, Lloyd, I'm far too old to be frightened by any of that."

"So, what are you doing?"

"I'm reading Boltzmann. I'm wondering if there was anything I missed that made your exsphere removal go awry."

Lloyd sighed and scooted up beside her. "When I was at the ranch, there wasn't one person that survived getting their exsphere removed. It's not your fault. It's the Desians'."

"Thank you, Lloyd," she said, "but I can't help wondering, what good are my skills if I can't even save one life?"

"Sheena says you saved her in Luin. She was sure she was a goner. You saved me, after the ranch. You're good at that, Raine, it's in your—" He was about to say "blood" but he stopped himself just in time.

Her eyes flickered at him, like an animal suddenly threatened. "In my what?"

"Uh… your nature," he managed to recover.

"I hope you don't mean anything racist or sexist by that," she said. "But I never understand half the nonsense you spout." She leaned back over her tome, trying to ignore him.

He watched her eyes flick back and forth over the pages of the book, glinting in the dim firelight. She did look like her mother, almost uncannily so. A little part of Lloyd's heart missed that crazy old lady. She had been the closest thing he'd had to a mother all his life, and he had only known her for a few weeks. He wondered if that officially made him and Genis brothers of some sort. He could live with that. Even an insane mother was better than a dead one.

"Can I sit up with you?" he asked Raine.

"If you wish."

He looked around him, making sure the others were asleep. He knew Colette wasn't, but she was pretending pretty well. She was also far enough away from the fire that she probably couldn't hear them. But with her ears… Despite that, Lloyd knew this might be his only chance to talk to Raine in private.

"Raine," he whispered, and she closed her book and stared at him. "I know you don't really trust me. And I don't blame you. There's something… Well, there's something I've… kind of been hiding from you." He reached into the pack beside him. Raine stiffened, as if expecting him to pull out a weapon, but when she saw it was just an old leather book, she relaxed. He brushed off the cover, as if that would make it more presentable. "I know you guys are half-elves," he said.

"Shh!" Raine hissed, looking at their sleeping companions. "Colette is probably awake—she'll hear. I don't know where you heard that but you must know that Genis and I are elves, not half-elves."

Lloyd handed over the diary. "I'm sorry. I should've given this to you sooner."

Raine took it from him. She looked it over for a second, examining the worn cover, the burnt spots where the fires of Luin has left their mark. Reluctantly, she opened it and skimmed the first page. Her eyes widened, and she began to flip through it furiously, silently. Lloyd stared at her for what seemed like hours. She kept covering and uncovering her mouth, making small noises of surprise, eyes watering.

"Where in Martel's name did you get this?" Lloyd had to strain his ears to hear her hoarse whisper.

"From your mother."

Raine dropped the book and put her face in her hands. Her breath came ragged, tortured, and he suddenly wondered if he had done the right thing.  _Too late now,_ he thought.

"She helped me when I first got to Tethe'alla," he continued. "She healed me when no one else could. She saved my life. She's an absolute genius. But she's a little nuts… well, read her diary, is all I can say. I only got halfway through before it got too hard for me."

Raine lifted her face from her hands and stared at him in disbelief. "I don't know whether to thank you or to smack you," she said quietly.

"You smack me enough," Lloyd answered.

"Excuse me." Raine tucked the book under her arm and stood, as if in a hurry. She walked into the darkness beyond the fire briskly, without looking back. Lloyd could see her shoulders shaking as she left, and knew she was crying.

Guilt rushed through him. Here he was, well-meaning as always, and he had made her cry. He didn't mean to upset her, especially since they already had such a tenuous relationship. He only knew that she, like everyone, deserved to know the truth.

He stayed up for a while, watching the shadows into which she had disappeared, and waited for her to return. The grandfather clock against the wall did not move, its pendulum had rusted still ages ago, but he could still almost hear the unnerving  _tick-tick-tick_ of its hands. When Raine didn't come back to the fire, he thought he should go look for her in case she had run into trouble. He didn't know what sort of harm the ghosts of the tower could do to the living besides frighten them, but he followed her tracks anyway.

He found her at the end of a silent hall, staring out a cobwebbed casement, clutching the book to her chest. "Raine?" he said quietly.

She turned to him, and in the dim moonlight shining through the dusty window, he could see tears staining her cheeks. "Lloyd. I don't know what to think. Is she all right? I couldn't bear to read the diary. Only the first dozen or so pages."

"She's… fine. A little out there, but she's alive and she has people to take care of her."

That didn't seem to comfort Raine. She only bit her lip, trying to bottle her sobs inside. "How could she  _do_  that?" she hissed. Lloyd stepped toward her, and she didn't shoo him away. "How could she abandon us like that?"

"I can't speak for her," Lloyd said. "But she did care about you. She… told me to find you when I left her. She said she's sorry. I think she's had it rough. Things are hard in Tethe'alla—for half-elves, I mean. Really hard."

"That's no excuse to abandon your children!" Raine spat, red-faced.

Lloyd had never seen her so upset—she was usually so calm, so collected. It pained him to have been the cause of her emotional breakdown, so he stepped closer, daring to put a hand on her shaking shoulder. "I'm sorry," was all he could say.

To his surprise, she let out a short, self-abasing chuckle. "Look at me. A grown woman crying over things long past." She wiped an eye. "You only lost your father a short while ago. If anyone should be crying, it's you."

"It's all right," Lloyd said. He knew nothing was really all right, but perhaps that was the best thing to say.

"Lloyd… if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."

"Oh. Okay. Don't get into any trouble out here."

"Don't worry about me," she smiled weakly. "Ghosts don't scare me. It's the living I'm worried about."

"Goodnight, Raine."

"Goodnight, Lloyd. Try not to have so many nightmares."

Lloyd frowned, a little embarrassed. "I'll try."

He silently walked back to the fire and sat down, staring into the flames.

"What happened?" he heard Colette ask. He bet she'd been trying her hardest to eavesdrop. "Are you two okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Lloyd said. He smiled at her. "Really."

"Good." She lay back down and fell silent, big blue eyes staring at the ceiling.

Lloyd sighed, threw his blanket over him, curled on his side, and tried not to think about his father's old ghost story. He closed his eyes, commanding himself to fall asleep, but he could only imagine his mother, a woman with his brown hair but Virginia's long face, banging at the door to the tower for eternity, trying to get inside…

*

Morning came too slowly.

Lloyd awoke with a groan and looked around him. The others were already up, eating a cold breakfast. The siblings glanced over at him, and something in their faces told him Raine had spoken to Genis about the diary. He hadn't been able to predict their reactions, but he had done what he knew was right. Beyond that, it was up to Raine and Genis to either forgive him for hiding the journal or hate him for it. He hoped to all the gods that they would choose to forgive him. He couldn't stand it when Genis was mad at him.

Sheena threw a biscuit in his direction. "Eat," she said. "We'll be making it to the top of the tower today."

"You think so?" he said, biting into the stale bread. That seemed optimistic to him, but as he packed his bedroll and pulled on his boots, he thought they might as well try, at least.

They made their way upwards, seemingly endlessly. Raine and Colette took the lead, followed closely by Sheena, and Genis fell back to join Lloyd at the rear. Genis stared ahead, as if making sure everyone was out of earshot before he quietly said, "Hey, Lloyd."

Lloyd immediately knew what this was about. "What?"

"You still… you're still my friend, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you still like me even though I'm a… well…"

Lloyd was not sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. Anger, maybe. Resentment, mistrust. But not this. "For someone so smart you sure can be pretty dumb," Lloyd said. He sighed at Genis' worried frown. "Genis, you're the type of friend who would forgive a guy who tried to assassinate the savior of the world. Why would I give up a friend like that? Of course I still like you. And I think it's wrong that you've had to hide your race for so long."

Genis looked relieved. "Well, I thought that, you know, after what the Desians did to you..."

"You're nothing like them," he said.

"I know. Raine keeps telling me we're not like them. That we're different. But sometimes I see what they do, and I feel… no wonder people don't like us, you know?"

"Genis…"

"How is she?" he asked. "Our mother?"

Lloyd shrugged. "She's doing fine, I think. She's a bit crazy."

"Yeah, Raine read some of her diary last night and said it's better if we never meet her."

"I'm sorry, Genis, that sucks."

"Nah. Raine has been a good enough mother. And you haven't seen yours since you could remember. It's not all bad."

Lloyd thought of his father, of his dream, and of the doomed love story. "No," he said. "It's not all bad."

"Hey, Lloyd," Genis said after a few minutes. "Thank you for giving Raine that diary. I think it really helped her get over some things."

"Oh. No worries," Lloyd answered. "I'm just sorry I kept it from you guys for so long."

"It's okay. It was a little bit of a revelation, but I think we're better off for it. You don't know how hard it was on her. Raising me by herself, in an unfriendly world. Especially given our… parentage. Just don't tell the others, right? About us?"

"I think you should tell them yourself."

Genis bit his lip. "I'll talk to Raine, but I don't think that's a good idea.

Lloyd had faith enough in Sheena and Colette that they wouldn't judge those two for simply being half-blooded, but you never knew. Both worlds had prejudices, and everyone from each had their own unique racial hang-ups. Lloyd couldn't fix that, but he could do his best to try. He thought that letting Genis and Raine come to terms with their bloodline on their own time might be a good first step.

*

"Holy  _hell_ , people!" Lloyd panted. "You didn't tell me there was that...  _thing_  guarding the seal!"

Raine raised an eyebrow. "You seemed to have handled it fine."

"Well, yeah, but seriously. Try to warn me next time." Both of his exspheres burned—his right with power, his left with pain.

"Gods," Sheena wheezed, hands on her knees. She seemed just as surprised as he did. "They… mentioned the seals were guarded… but I thought maybe… with booby traps. Not some weird… giant creature." Raine, Genis and Colette, who had obviously been through this sort of thing several times before, remained unfazed.

The Chosen simply approached the altar and knelt. Lloyd wanted to tell her to wait up, to think about it for a second, but he knew it would fall on deaf ears. She would release the seal no matter what, even if it meant losing something that made her human.

She seemed calm, happy even, to clasp her hands in prayer and ask Martel to bless her with death. She muttered a few words, colored with the musicality of her voice, and raised her arms to the sky. A pillar of light descended from the clouds, and with it came a winged shadow. Lloyd's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't what appeared at the altar before the Chosen.

The angel descended from the searing light, white-winged, slender, noble, but still of the same breed that had attacked him and his father at the Tower of Salvation. Before he could stop himself, he drew his sword. His left exsphere, still active from the fight, released its darkness into his veins, and he gripped Flamberge's hilt. He took a step forward, ready to cut the angel down.

He would make it talk. He would make it tell him what had happened to his dad, he would—

"What do you think you're doing?" Raine hissed at him, grabbing his arm. She pulled him back, and before he could shake her off, Sheena grabbed his other one and gripped it tight.

"Hold your horses, kid," the summoner said. "This is supposed to happen."

Lloyd twitched, trying to stop himself from singlehandedly derailing the entire World Regeneration for the sake of his father. He told the exsphere to quiet down, to take back the anger it had been dumping into his veins, to leave him be. Eventually he managed to suppress the urge to attack the angel; he just stood and seethed as the Chosen prayed fervently. Both she and the angel ignored him; lost in their own universe of ancient rituals and dead languages. The angel spoke to her in words Lloyd couldn't understand, and she kept kneeling, head bowed, for what seemed like hours. When eventually she turned from the dais, the angel disappeared. She smiled, clasped her hands to her chest, and fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Not again," Raine said, rushing toward her.

"Does she do this every time?" Lloyd panted, kneeling at her side and helping Raine lift her from the ground.

"The journey's been hard on her," Genis answered.

Raine raised Colette to her lap and looked her over for any injuries. She stroked back Colette's hair, felt her forehead, and finally lowered her back to the ground. "We should let her rest," Raine said. "Martel knows what she's going through right now."

Lloyd felt a little sick to his stomach. "Who was that guy?" he asked. "That angel?"

"Remiel. He's Colette's guide," Genis said. "He's the one that tests her and helps her become an angel."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes at the altar, now empty. "He looked just like the angels that took my dad."

" _Angels_  attacked you?" Raine said. "You didn't mention that before." She stood, staring down at Colette. "Well, I suppose it explains why you were itching to get to him. But you must learn to control yourself, Lloyd, or you'll jeopardize everything we've done so far."

"I'm sorry," he said.

Raine crossed her arms. "What in the world did your father do to incur the wrath of the angels? Was he an opponent of the Regeneration?"

"I don't know," Lloyd answered. "I honestly don't. It seemed… we had to hide out a lot."

"This is getting quite interesting," Raine muttered, shaking her head.

Colette stirred and opened her eyes before anyone could prod the physician for answers. Everyone crowded around her, leaning over her and asking her if she felt all right, and Lloyd was no exception.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, perhaps a bit too forcefully.

She smiled slightly. She blinked a few times and opened her mouth, but no words came out. She wrinkled her nose in confusion, and tried again. Still, no sound. Instead, she just nodded.

"You… lost your voice," Genis whispered. Colette shrugged sadly.  _That's just how it goes_ , she seemed to say.

Lloyd grit his teeth, trying to hold back the anger that seemed to flood from his exsphere outward. It was that damn angel, it  _must've_ been that damn feathery bastard who—

He quieted his own thoughts and reached down to take her hand. When her skin met his, the anger receded, and he pulled her to her feet.

"We should head to the Tower of Salvation," Raine said passively.

"What?" Lloyd barked. "Right now? Look at Colette! She's barely recovered from this last seal. We can't take her yet."

Colette shook her head, seeming to insist she was fine. Wordlessly, she picked up her things, and made as if ready to set off. She took a deep breath, gave them all a brave smile and started across the roof of the tower. Lloyd glanced at the rest—Raine with her resigned, stoic frown, Genis with his bewildered stare, and Sheena, who seemed worse off than the rest of them. The look the assassin gave Lloyd nearly struck him as badly as Colette's condition. For a moment he imagined Sheena regretted not giving the Chosen a merciful, quick death. Lloyd didn't know if it would've been any worse than what Colette must be going through now.

They returned to solid ground, down thousands of stairs, through the halls, libraries and sitting rooms. By the time they emerged into the clean, natural air, the sun was already obscured behind the surrounding hills. They made camp on the terrace of the tower, much like Lloyd had all those years ago with his father. Before he unpacked his things, he scanned the distance for Noishe, but saw no sign of him. He'd probably sniff them out by morning.

So Lloyd crawled onto his bedroll and tried to fall asleep. He wished for a dead, dreamless night, so he would not have any unwelcome visitations, but he just couldn't seem to get comfortable. He stared at the sky for a while before he heard Colette crawl to the edge of camp and get up.  _Don't follow her_ , he told himself.  _She probably wants to be alone right now._

But he couldn't help himself. He was naturally a selfish bastard, and he needed to know if she was all right. He found her at the far end of the terrace, leaning over an ancient, crumbling handrail. She stared into the distance, motionless.

"Colette," he whispered, and she turned around, trying to smile. He stood next to her and leaned over the rail, looking at the stars. He could tell she was suffering, but he didn't know what he could say to make her feel better. So he just let the silence speak for him. They stood there a while, motionless, until she reached for his hand. She lifted it and began to write in his palm.

I'm sorry, she wrote.

"What the hell are you sorry for?" he asked.

For making everyone worry.

"Colette…"

You had a nightmare last night.

"Yeah. Kind of."

Tell me.

Lloyd stared at his palm for a moment, the traces of her movement still tingling his skin. "Do you really want to know what I dream about?" he asked.

Yes.

He sighed. "When it's not about my father… I dream of Kvar. He's just as I left him, but he's still alive, still standing. He has my sword in his heart, he's holding his own head, but he's laughing. He tells me… he tells me he's proud of me, that I've been a good son. And the worst part is, for a moment, in my dream, I believe him. It's like he knows everything I don't. He knows that killing him won't bring back my mother, he knows that everything I do just makes the exsphere grow better. And that's exactly what he wants. He always gets what he wants. I envy him, I really do, at those moments." As if summoned by his words, his left exsphere sent a mild twinge up his arm. He trembled slightly as he tried to banish that agonizing power back into the little stone, to put it back where it came from.

Colette's hand found his and the pain disappeared. He didn't know how she did it, but every time her skin touched his, the exsphere seemed to retreat, at least momentarily. He figured it must be a Chosen thing.

She lifted his hand and wrote in it: That's not you.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She shook her head. That person in your dream is not you.

He half-smiled, appreciating the sentiment, even if it was beyond him. "I don't really understand."

She only continued writing, as if she hadn't heard him. I wish I could still sing. You'd sleep better if I sang to you.

"Don't worry about it. I'll remember that song you sang me the next time I have trouble sleeping. That old one… what was it called again? Something-something, my darling?"

She squeezed his palm. Rest Easy, My Darling.

He smiled. "Yeah. That's the one." He stared at her for a minute. "Colette… are you sure you… never mind."

She looked at him, almost hurt.

"Look, I'm not going to ask you if you want to go through with this. I know you'll do it. But I just have to tell you… don't push us away. Don't pretend to be fine when you're not. We all know what's happening to you."

Colette shook her head, mouth moving instinctively, as if she could still speak.

"I think even Sheena knows. She senses it. And she feels terrible. She tried to kill you, and now she's one of the people who wants you to live most. Colette—you change people. You touch their lives. Please, please think about this. I don't know if the world can afford to lose you."

She dropped his hand, a a betrayed look on her face. She bit her lip, looking like she wanted to tear up, but her eyes were dry. He suddenly felt guilty for even mentioning the possibility she could shirk her duty and condemn the world.

"I'm sorry," he started, but she had already turned to go. He didn't follow her as she slipped off into the night.


	14. The Tower Revisited

They walked on in silence. Only the crunching of their footsteps and Noishe's panting accompanied their seemingly interminable march toward the Tower, toward the restoration of the world, and the pitiless apotheosis of Colette. Lloyd didn't know what he would do when that moment came, no matter how hard he thought about it. He imagined the scenario with every step, over and over, eternally unable to produce a solution, as the green fields turned to forest, which turned into brown, bare mountain. Hima was close.

There seemed to be a lot less talking now that Colette had lost her voice. Lloyd didn't know if it was some sort of expression of solidarity on behalf of the party, or if she really was the driving force behind all conversation, but with a wave of guilt he realized he might appreciate the silence. He'd lived most of his life in it, but considering his father, that wasn't much of a surprise.

Colette had seemed to forgive him sometime in the long hours of quietness. Each night, after they had all set up camp, she would desperately try to initiate some sort of conversation by grabbing the nearest person and writing on their palm, asking questions, making jokes, pointing out particularly beautiful aspects of the landscape. Despite her valiant efforts, she did not seem to manage to spur dialogue. Even Genis, who might not have completely deduced Colette's fate at the end of the journey, seemed down. He was smart enough that he could readily assume something was wrong, though he might not have yet plucked up the courage to ask.

Every night, after the others had gone to sleep, Colette would leave camp and go for a walk, sometimes by herself, sometimes with Lloyd in tow. He usually waited for her to invite him. He knew that sometimes, when burdened with thoughts about death, it was better to be alone. But he also knew that other times, especially when burdened with thoughts about death, it was better to be with someone else. So he would always wait for a sign that Colette wanted company, and he would walk with her in the darkness, where they could speak (or write) freely about their own fears, their own fates, and their own regrets.

When Hima drew near and they stopped beneath the barren red cliffs of the town, it was Lloyd who rushed off to walk alone in the night. It all seemed suddenly so loud to him—the crackling of the fire, the sound of Colette writing furiously on Raine's palm, the half-elf's patient "hmms," Genis' spoon stirring the pot, Sheena's quiet shuffling of her cards, even the slight ring of his own sword as he polished it by the fire.

He stood, suddenly overwhelmed, and left without a word. Gravel crunching beneath his feet, he made his way up a foothill, trying to keep his mind from running away without him. Noishe followed close behind, whining, treading with careful padded feet up the scree. The Tower loomed before them, uncanny shadow carving a pillar of darkness out of the sea of stars. They were so close now, so close to the Regeneration, to the fateful place where he had last seen his father…

"Dad," he said, lifting his head. He knew he shouldn't shout, but he couldn't help but think that maybe if he projected enough, his voice might reach the top of that disturbing building, where he knew his father must be. "I know you're up there. I don't know how, or why, but I know you're around there somewhere. And I'll find you. Before I die, I'll find you. I need some goddamn answers." He sat back on his haunches and scratched Noishe's ear. "And Noishe needs someone to take care of him, don't you, boy?"

The dog whined.

"So that's that, then. I can't die before I find dad and give him back to you. He always was better at taking care of you than I was. Don't know why." Lloyd stared at the sky for a few minutes in silence. "But what about Colette?" he asked the dog. "What about Tethe'alla? I still haven't got a clue how to save either. And… what if I die before I figure it out—"

"Lloyd."

He started, and Noishe swept his head around to look, ears flopping, but no growl emerged from his throat. The crunching and scraping of rocks followed the voice over the crest of the hill, and Lloyd saw it was only Raine.

"Uh… hey," he started lamely, hoping she hadn't heard him speaking to himself.

"I'm glad I found you," she said. "I wanted to speak to you alone."

_Oh, great_. If Raine wanted some privacy with Lloyd she only had scolding to do. Either his impromptu assignment was unsatisfactory (it always was, even with Colette signing answers for him behind Raine's back), or he'd done something terribly wrong…

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

He hadn't expected the note of tenderness in her voice. "Uh… um, I'm all right."

"How is your exsphere?"

He looked down at his hand—red, itchy, inflamed, still plagued by the damnable little rock growing there. "It… well, it sucks, prof."

"We've been through this, I'm not a professor."

"Well, then. It sucks, doc."

Raine sighed. "I'm not a doctor either."

Lloyd knew this—he knew she had no degrees of any kind, since those types of certificates were only awarded to people who could prove the purity of their blood. It was how the schools worked in Sylvarant. And Tethe'alla too, probably.

"Well, um… it burns. Sometimes if I don't move, it'll stay numb, but for the most part all I can do is ignore it."

She sighed. "So, Lloyd. I didn't want to say this in front of the others, because it will sound unimaginably heartless."

He gulped. "What?"

"I know you're going to die, but I was going to ask you if you could at least do it usefully."

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to let me document your condition. Allow me to examine your hand, allow me to take an account of the exsphere's progress. Let me write down everything I observe."

"Why?"

"I know it will be hard for you, but I think… perhaps, if we learn about the evolution of your condition, I could compile something of a medical text. Since the Boltzmann book doesn't cover this sort of thing, and any other related texts are in the hands of the Desians, this could be useful for helping others who have the same ailment. Those for whom it's not too late."

Lloyd looked out across the expanse of bare mountains, taking in the cool air. "All right. Just… don't cut my hand off or anything." Come to think of it, that might be the only way to separate himself from that evil little stone. He was sure if anyone could do it in a sanitary manner, it would be Raine. She had been healing their little injuries with absolute proficiency in the past few weeks. She really  _should've_ been a doctor.

"I won't, Lloyd. Thank you. I'm sure many others will thank you too, if what we learn can help them." Unexpectedly, she lay a hand on his elbow. "I know this is only one more burden on your shoulders. I know you are distressed about your situation, and about your father's. And Colette's."

Raine sat beside him, and Noishe rubbed his head against her arm. She ignored the dog and instead preoccupied herself with intertwining and extricating her fingers.

"So, you knew from the beginning?" Lloyd asked.

"I did."

"How?"

"When I was assigned to accompany Colette on her journey, the priests told me. But I had known the story of the Chosen well before I met Colette. I used to study archeology in the Asgard region. There are plenty of old texts, from the Sylvarant Dynasty, and before, that illustrate it. The church usually withholds that information from the Chosen until they reach an age when they can comprehend it. In desperate years, a Chosen might embark on the journey at eight or nine. They were never told about their fate."

"But Colette was?"

"She was the right age to learn."

"So she knew the whole time, too."

"Yes. And she still decided to go through with it." Raine sighed. "That's why I think it's best if everyone here keeps their distance from her. But she is too  _good_. There is something about her that draws people close. Including you. Deep in that angry little heart of yours, I know there's kindness. Don't let it hurt you. "

"Prof, I'm just as damned as she is. If she dies, I'll go pretty soon after." Lloyd stopped himself. "But I won't let that happen. Nobody's going to have to die—well, not Colette, anyway. Not Tethe'alla, either. I don't want to see Sheena's world suffer so ours can live."

Raine gave him a cold look. "What if you're wrong? What if there is no way to help both worlds? What if the only reasonable option is to save ourselves and damn the other world? What if there is no way to help Colette?"

"Well, I—"

"You must do what you can, but you must never waste time trying to do what you can't. You've only got so much time in this world, you can't throw it out dreaming of pleasant impossibilities. You have to contend with the  _possibilities_ , Lloyd. And in my experience, the worst option should be considered the only option."

Lloyd looked her over. The softness in her face, the warmth she shared with Virginia, had fled her features. What remained was a hardened, hopeless look of stone. It was the face of someone betrayed time and time again.

"You're talking just like my dad," he said, disguising his distress with a laugh.

"And look what happened to him," Raine said. "You said he was injured badly, and captured. By  _angels_. That has to be the worst possible option out of any of them on this planet."

"Yeah… well, I guess I can't really think of anything freakier," Lloyd admitted.

"When we get to the Tower, promise not to do anything stupid," Raine sighed. "After the Regeneration is complete, you will have all the time in the world to interrogate angels as to the whereabouts of your father. But do not destroy Sylvarant in the process. The Regeneration, and my world, comes first."

" _Your_  world? Your world is Tethe'alla, prof."

"Tethe'alla means nothing to me," she snarled. "It has only harmed me. Harmed my family." She stood, brushing herself off, taking a deep breath. When she spoke again, it was with a kinder, softer tone. "Take care of yourself, Lloyd. Please don't let that exsphere destroy you."

"It will."

"Physically. I mean, don't let it destroy your mind. I know you are a kind person, deep down. Colette knows. Genis knows. Don't betray them. Don't let whatever is inside that thing get to you." She made for the crest of the hill.

Lloyd watched her go, trying to overcome the confusion in his mind. "Raine," he called after her, and she turned. "Do you still think I'm dangerous?"

She half-smiled. "Yes. I do. But as far as I can tell, you're on my side. On my side is where I want the danger to be."

*

Hima was flooded with refugees. The former prisoners of the Asgard human ranch had set up makeshift tents along the road, made of blankets or old clothes sewn together, and none of the poor wretches looked like they had seen food in weeks. Lloyd even recognized a few of them, but they may not have recognized him, now that he had gained weight and grew his hair back.

They crawled from their tents when they saw the Chosen, reaching out to her. Silent, Colette reached back, touching as many outstretched hands as she could. She couldn't say anything to them, she could only brush them, lightly, briefly, on her way to the town's inn. Some of the refugees got up and followed her, asking her questions, begging for her to save them. Unable to answer them, she kept going, wet eyes staring ahead, until they entered the inn's lobby. It was almost a relief to put a door between the Chosen and all those starving, sickly people.

The innkeeper, inundated with fugitives, had done his best to make room for everyone, but when he saw the Chosen before his desk, he said he would clear out a few people to accommodate them. Colette shook her head, and looked at Lloyd for an interpretation.

"We'll just sleep on the floor in the lobby," Lloyd told the innkeeper. "Don't move anyone for our sake."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," Raine said. "We can manage. We've slept in much worse places, thank you."

"Well, it wouldn't be right to charge you. I'll bring blankets and pillows down in a few minutes."

Genis collapsed by the door, rubbing his sore legs, and Raine sat down beside him. Sheena took Colette in search of some food, but Lloyd found he wasn't hungry. When no one was looking, he quietly left the inn and walked down to the line of raggedy tents pitched along the road. He wasn't sure why he did it—perhaps he wanted to look for a familiar face, to know that someone he'd recognized had survived. Maybe it was to admire the precariousness of the tents; for most, it was a miracle they stood upright, the way the wind blew through them. Maybe it was so he could gawk and selfishly thank all the gods that he had the Chosen and her party to take care of him, unlike the other escapees.

Halfway along the rows of tents, he saw a man that he recognized—the one that had first told him the truth about exsphere manufacture. He slowed, just to make sure it was the same man (his hair had grown quite a bit since they had last met), but he didn't seem to care when Lloyd sat down beside him. He didn't look much better than he had at the ranch; too skinny, sickly, and exhausted, but Lloyd was relieved to find that he had survived at all.

"It's you," the man said, taking a moment to recognize Lloyd.

"How are things? How is everyone?" he asked.

"How do you think?" he half-laughed bitterly. "We're coping. There ain't enough food for everyone, but life out here is still a helluva lot better than at the ranch. But some of us have already forgotten what we've escaped from. 'At least we had enough to eat at the ranch,' they say. 'At least we had somewhere to sleep!' Ungrateful morons. Anyway, a few people were lucky enough to escape before they put an exsphere in them. They'll be fine, if they manage to find enough food. I heard there's a dwarf in Iselia that might be able to make some key crests for the lucky ones. Some of us are going to catch a boat there. But folks like me, well, frankly, we're screwed." He held up his hand. His exsphere had almost made its way completely out of his red and flaking skin. "I don't have long, but I'm glad that I didn't give the bastards the pleasure of killing me."

Lloyd nodded, looking at his own. One gave him strength, the other sapped it; one was going to kill him, the other one was keeping him alive. He didn't find the symmetry very amusing, but he knew Kvar would have something philosophical to say about it. He clenched his fists, trying not to think of him. And what would his father have to say if he found out Lloyd had gone and got himself turned into an exsphere host, moreover by the same man that had done it to his mother? He'd probably get a beating. Well, his dad was a bastard just like everyone else involved in all this exsphere business. He hoped when he saw him again, he could pulverize some answers out of him. Like why he was hiding his mother's exsphere in the mountains in the first place.

The man glanced at Lloyd's hand. "Oh, boy. Those Desian bastards sure got you good. It's just big enough that you can't remove it, just small enough to not kill you quickly. You should find a key crest. You tried taking the one from this one—" he pointed to Lloyd's mother's exsphere—"and putting it on the other side?"

"Yeah, seems it doesn't work to well. This key crest was made for an exsphere  _not_  growing in human skin."

"Hah, yeah, they all are. But I heard if you find a really fancy one that fits perfect, or if you can get a dwarf to make you one special, you might have a long time to live."

"How long?" Lloyd found himself asking.

"Oh, I dunno, a few years, maybe, if you're really lucky. A few months if you're not." The man looked at Lloyd's sullen face and decided to lift his spirits. "On the bright side, I heard that someone killed Kvar. One of the prisoners, even."

Lloyd glanced up. "That was me."

"What? Really? Right on!" he clasped his shoulder. "And now you're with the Chosen. Brother, you've been fighting the good fight. Keep it up."

The man's congratulations and optimism didn't completely satisfy Lloyd. But he couldn't exactly explain to this acquaintance the true nature of the worlds, or the true nature of Colette's sacrifice. He couldn't sit down and walk this man through the nuances of the universe, the pros and cons, the giveths and taketh-aways.

Instead, he stood and bid brief farewell to the man. Lloyd almost felt like a traitor, leaving that man behind on the side of the road while he returned to the warmth of the inn. The only way to rid this world of Desians was to complete the Regeneration, he knew it—and there was nothing else he could do for the man but offer a bit of revenge. It was too late for him. It was too late for both of them.

He knew he had no obligation to save the man—or the worlds, or Colette, either—but he couldn't help but think of it as some sort of duty. A few weeks ago all he had wanted was to get back to his father, to rip him from the clutches of Yggdrasill, whoever that was, and get some answers.  _And then what?_  the wiser part of his mind asked him.  _Go back to your old life? You hated that life. School for nine months, enduring your dad for the other three, wrapped up in petty hatred, pitying yourself? All while the worlds starve and die, while innocent people, good people like Colette, kill themselves to make it a better place?_

_Shut up,_ he told himself, but he wouldn't. He knew, just knew, that with every step he took toward that Tower, the farther away from his old life he got. His ignorance, his comfort, his safety, the Academy, Palmacosta, the boring holidays and failed classes… they all started to fade in the distance.

When he made it to the inn, he found Colette and Sheena with a generous bowl of food before them. Sheena was prodding Colette to eat, insisting she  _had_  to be hungry, she hadn't seen the poor girl eat anything substantial for weeks. Lloyd sat down beside them and decided to help the Chosen out, reaching for her half of the meal.

"Get your own," Sheena insisted, but Colette shook her head. She seemed grateful that she wasn't wasting her food, especially with all those starving people out there, but Sheena wouldn't have it.

"You're such a  _vulture_ , Lloyd!" she said, face stuffed.

"Well, if Colette doesn't want it, don't make her eat it," he said. "And if you don't want it, go outside and offer it to some of the people out there. I'm sure they'd love it."

"Hey, Lloyd." They all turned to see Genis descend the stairs, small book in hand. It was Lloyd's little text about the Kharlan War, still mostly unread. "Is this the one that I gave you for your birthday?"

"Oh, yeah. I lost it when my dad went missing. Left it in the room, I guess."

Raine snatched the book from Genis and looked it over. "You're  _really_  reading this?" she asked.

"Um, yes," Lloyd answered, a little confused.

"But… this is for  _children_!" she replied, with more than a hint of consternation.

"Well, yeah, Raine. Lloyd isn't that great of a reader," Genis offered helpfully.

Raine sighed. "So I've noticed. But I've always had hope."

"It's not that bad of a book. You should read it," Lloyd said defensively.

"I have, and it's not for your age."

"Whatever, Raine," Genis said. "It takes a lot for him to read at all."

When Raine set the book on the table, Lloyd snatched it and stuffed it back in his bag. "What does it matter? I'm not great at some stuff, so what? I'm gonna be dead in a few months anyway." He closed his rucksack and sighed, ignoring the hurt looks from his companions. "Look, I think we should focus on the Regeneration anyway."

"You're right," Raine said. "We should begin with a way to get to the Tower."

"Are we still as close as we can get?" Sheena asked.

"Well, there's no way to it on foot—the mountains are too treacherous. Chosens have died that way before, if you remember your Regeneration history." When Sheena lifted an eyebrow, Raine corrected herself. "I suppose I shouldn't expect you to know the Sylvaranti side of the story."

"Well, last time I was here," Lloyd offered, "I met a man who sold dragon rides."

"Is he still around?" Sheena asked.

"I think I saw him when I was wandering around town," Lloyd answered. But I think it's best if you go by yourselves to ask him. He probably won't want to lend me any."

"Why not?" Genis asked.

"Well, I kind of... stole one of his dragons the last time I was here."

" _Lloyd!"_ Genis sighed. "Why'd you go and do that?"

"I needed to get to the Tower! Besides, it was a long time ago, maybe he's forgotten me by now. Or… maybe if we tell him we're with the Chosen he'll give in. It's his moral obligation, and all."

"Well, we'll have to contact him in the morning," Raine said, half-smiling. "And we'll see if we can at least trick him into giving us a ride."

"What is wrong with you people?" Genis laughed. "An assassin, a dragon thief and a shameless manipulator. Colette, how did we ever find ourselves surrounded by these monsters?"

The Chosen put her hand over her mouth, as if to suppress the breathy, voiceless sound that burst from it. To anyone listening it may have sounded like a gasp of pain, or shuddering pants of fear, but Lloyd knew it was the closest thing to a laugh she could muster.

*

Colette had made her way to the roof of the inn, floating up on pinkish, glowing wings. It was practically the only place in Hima that offered any privacy—every inch of available space had been taken up by refugees. They now wandered the night street, chatting, searching for food, or lay by their tents and groaned, nursing their painful exspheres. Lloyd tried to slip around the inn without catching their attention.

He found a wall that was climbable enough, but he couldn't help wishing for a pair of wings himself as he hauled his aching body up the side of the building and to the slanted shingles. At the roof's apex, out of view of the wounded populace beneath her, Colette stood and stared at the stars.

"Hey," he said. He had known he was not invited on this little outing—she had waited until she thought he was asleep to escape through the inn's window.

Colette turned, unsurprised. He could see the flecks of starlight reflected in her tortured eyes, and for a moment he thought he might've made a grave mistake following her. But this might be her last night. It might be his.

She seemed to accept the inevitability of his presence. As he approached her, she didn't fly away—she could've, easily, but she just stood, frowning. She looked as if she wanted to cry—she looked as if she had even  _tried_ , with her red, exhausted-looking eyes, but he figured she couldn't. She reached out for his hand when he was close enough, and lifted it to write.

Do you hate me?

"No!" he almost shouted, taken aback. "What would make you think that?"

Because I failed all those people out there. I was supposed to save them.

"What do you mean?"

They're starving now, they're sick now, because I couldn't help them.

Lloyd hesitated a moment. When they had made their way through the streets, Raine had chastised the group—including herself—for impulsively releasing the prisoners without a plan to care for them. "It might've not been the… most thought-out idea," he admitted. "But I know what those people went through—I went through it too. They might have it tough now, but believe me, anything is better than the ranch.  _Anything._ Even this. Even death."

Even death, her look told him. She raised her eyes to the sky once more. Somehow she managed to keep staring at the stars while she wrote in his palm.

Are you scared to die?

"Yeah, I really am," he confessed. "It's embarrassing, 'specially after I told myself so many times it was gonna happen, you know… soon. But…"

Me too. I'm terrified.

"You're not going to die," he tried, lamely. "Even if you become an angel. Me, on the other hand… well, I'm pretty sure where I'm going, and there are no angels down there."

Why would you say that?

"I dunno. If I find my dad I'm not sure I'm not gonna punch him into next week. I think beating up your dad is punishable with hell, or Niflheim or whatever. I don't remember what the priests told me. I never paid attention in chapel. Oh, yeah, that's probably another reason I'm not gonna get to be an angel."

Colette let loose a throaty noise—a chuckle, he suspected. Well, she wrote, I'm the Chosen, so I'll put in a good word for you when I meet Martel.

He looked at her eyes shining in the night, at her flawless smile. "I'm not gonna let you meet her," he said. "Not yet, at least. As soon as we get to the Tower, we can find my dad, and I'm sure he knows a way around it—"

The sad look she gave him shut him up.

"I'm sorry, Colette. I know… you want this for yourself, and for the world. But I don't. I've seen too many people die around to want it."

Many more people will die if I fail the Regeneration, she scrawled hastily.

"I know, and… I don't know what to do, Colette. I just don't. I'm sorry."

She paused for a moment, a hint of a sad smile on her face.

I'm glad you came to kill me, she finally wrote.

"What?" Lloyd asked. "Why?"

Because otherwise I never would've met you.

Lloyd didn't really understand. She had probably met many more interesting people, many  _better_  people than Lloyd. "Don't be such a dork," was all he could come up with.

Sorry.

"And stop apologizing."

So—she pulled her hand back just in time, and he laughed.

She turned her gaze back to the Tower, but he couldn't help keep his locked on her.

"You're strong, Colette," he said, without thinking. "Really… really strong."

She just glanced at him, confused. Her pale face almost seemed to shine, framed in golden hair. She looked so ragged from her journey, but even her hardships did not seem to dim the vivacious glow of hope in her. Hope for her world, for everything. He suddenly couldn't help himself from stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her.

He squeezed her, and after her initial moment of surprise, felt her hands on his back. Gods, it had been so long since he'd touched anyone, really  _touched_  them, not just brushed them in passing or exchanged a friendly nudge. Raine had prodded his hand and Colette had written in it, Sheena and Genis had clasped his shoulder or back every once in a while, but it had been so long since he'd actually held anyone, or been held, not since his childhood, when his father…

Gods, he couldn't stand seeing someone like Colette, so kind and so dependent on kindness, standing to her fate and facing it alone. At least right now, in this short moment, he could show her she wasn't alone. And neither was he. Just for a moment.

And then a horrible realization came over him. "Colette… you can't feel this at all, can you?" Warmth, sleep, the movement of breath, the catharsis of a good cry, the reassuring touch of another person—she could get no comfort from any of it. "Oh, gods, Colette." He let her go, suddenly ashamed, and saw her dry eyes, her expressionless face, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

When his own eyes watered, he almost felt as if he were insulting her. He wiped his tears away, quickly, and turned. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry, I'm usually not such a weepy bastard."

Colette gripped his hand and lifted it. Stop apologizing.

He chuckled, then cursed himself for being such a gutless weakling. Maybe if he were stronger, he wouldn't have to watch either of them go through this. This tiring, bewildering melodrama. They wouldn't have to worry about their regrets or their fears, or worry that this night, of all nights, might be one of their last.

"Do you want me to stay up with you?" Lloyd asked.

Yes.

"Okay."

Thank you.

"No problem."

*

The next day, Lloyd said a tearful goodbye to Noishe.

"I don't know if I'm gonna come back, boy," he told the dog, patting his ear. "I asked the innkeeper to take care of you. He said that he would. Don't worry, I've left him enough money to feed you. And you can guard the refugees, in case the Desians come here looking for them."

Noishe whined, no doubt hesitant to take on so much responsibility.

"If I don't come back, just know…" Lloyd didn't know what to say, or what Noishe could understand. "Just remember to be a good dog. You're always a good dog." Colette lay her hand on his shoulder, reassuring him that Noishe would be all right. He squeezed her hand, and they made their way up to the highest hill in Hima.

The dragon man was there, as usual, trying to scam those who could afford it into a ride.

"You!" he shouted when he spied Lloyd.

"Me." Lloyd regretted that he had not hidden his face when he decided to rob the guy.

"Get outta here! I'm not renting to you. You have some pretty hefty balls if you think you can just waltz back up here and demand—"

"Do you know whom you're addressing?" Raine stepped between him and Lloyd. "We are the guardians of the Chosen of Regeneration."

"What? Um…"

"That girl right there is the savior of Sylvarant. And you're going to outright refuse us?"

"Um—"

"What would the people of Sylvarant say when they find out that you were the reason the Chosen couldn't make it to the Tower?"

"Well, I…"

"Imagine how it would feel if you bore sole responsibility for the failure of the Regeneration. If the entire world was kept in abject decline because of  _you_."

"Um... if she's the Chosen… I guess I could…"

"You  _guess_?" Raine's indignation was palpable. The man bent under its weight, and after several minutes of her schooling him harder than she schooled Lloyd or Genis, he broke. Begrudgingly, he allowed them three dragons, and after a few more minutes, agreed it should be at no charge.

Lloyd loaded up, trying to avoid the fuming stare of the man. He just packed his things aboard the animal and helped Colette scramble up its side. "Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded. He climbed on behind her, and after nodding to Genis and Raine (both frowning nervously), and Sheena (who looked comfortable enough), they shot up into the sky. The rush of cool air flew past Lloyd, stinging his eyes, ringing in his ears. It was a liberating feeling, but he couldn't stop his heart from twisting around in his chest.

He had no idea what to expect. He couldn't fathom what could possibly happen at the Tower, but he knew that whatever did, he was woefully unprepared for it. He supposed this was nothing new; he had spent his whole life being unprepared for things. The abduction of his father, his trip to the other world, his escapes, encounters, pains and joys. He hadn't been prepared for any of them. So if it came to it, he would improvise—he had handled everything so far, he could handle the future.

Halfway to the Tower he began to hope that Yggdrasill would meet them there. Then at least he would have some idea of what to do. He would slice up the brute and get his dad back, then they could go about figuring a way to save Colette, and Tethe'alla, too. He knew his father knew more than he let on; as soon as he found him, he would get him to tell the truth about everything… the two worlds, the Chosen, and his mother. He grit his teeth against the cold wind and watched the Tower approach.

_Let him be there_ , Lloyd thought.  _Please, Martel, just let him be there. Let me make him talk._

*

It was as quiet as it had been when his father had been kidnapped. Last time he had been here, Kratos had left the door open, presumably in case he needed to make a hasty retreat. Now, the door only opened when Colette approached it. Lloyd wondered how his dad had managed to get inside, but he knew now wasn't the time to think about things like that.

He drew his sword as they made their way across the glass catwalk to the altar. There was no sign of his father—no sign of anyone, for that matter. Colette approached the altar, then looked behind her as if waiting for approval. Raine nodded to her, so she knelt and began to pray.

Something cold, electric, began to form in Lloyd's stomach. He couldn't tell if it was a feeling of dread, or excitement, or simply the sort of uncanny magic that seemed to surround the rituals of the Chosen. He gripped the hilt of his sword, suddenly nervous. He looked around him for any sign of danger, but all was silent.

A burst of light momentarily blinded him, and there was the angel, Remiel, the one who had spoken to the Chosen at the last seal. As he descended toward Colette, his face beamed, his smile spread large and white across his handsome face. Lloyd thought there was something a little off about him, something he had previously failed to put his thumb on. He didn't like the smirk on his face, the glint in his eyes.

When the angel spoke, it was in words that Lloyd could understand. "You've done well to come this far, Chosen. Now, to complete the ritual of Regeneration, you must make the last sacrifice: your heart and memories."

Colette bowed her head.

And Lloyd knew, at that moment, that he had made the wrong decision to bring her to the Tower. As he watched Colette lift her hands to the angel, as he watched her wings appear from her back like glowing petals, he knew that he had deluded himself. He suddenly knew that he had only followed the Chosen into the mouth of the beast, all the while telling himself they could escape it. He had known, he had  _known_  that this would happen, but he had tucked that thought away, told himself he would figure things out later, told himself that if he could use the Chosen to get to the Tower and find his father, it would be good enough.

It was what he had set out to do. It was what they had all set out to do, each in his or her own way. The assassins, the guardians, all of them—their only purpose remained the same: to kill Colette. And now, faced with the reality of the situation, the calm, almost benign ease with which Colette reached for the angel and invited her fate, he knew he'd been wrong.

"Colette, don't," Lloyd found himself saying. Colette turned, glancing at him sadly. She flashed him a weak smile and faced Remiel once more. Lloyd stepped forward to stop her, but felt a hand grab his sleeve.

"I thought I told you," Raine whispered in his ear. "You knew this was coming. You know that becoming an angel means dying."

Lloyd did. And he decided he wasn't going to follow through with it. If Colette had to die to regenerate the world, then damn the world. He wouldn't let her. There was something off, there was something so horribly  _wrong_  with all of this—he couldn't stand sitting by and letting it happen. He pushed away from Raine and sprang toward Colette, one arm outstretched, the other holding his sword at the ready, in case the angel tried to stop him.

"It's too late," Remiel laughed as Lloyd jumped onto the altar and grabbed Colette, spinning her around.

"Colette! Can you hear me?" he screamed, shaking her. Her eyes were empty, her body limp, her Cruxis Crystal glowing. A wave of recognition passed through him. Just like his red exsphere glowed when it sucked the life out of his body, this crystal glowed as it sucked the soul out of hers. "Take this damn thing off!" He made a grab for it, but in a flash of feathers and light, suddenly Remiel was between them.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the angel growled.

The fear and anger that had built up in Lloyd this journey suddenly released into his blood. That too familiar darkness coursed through him, starting in his left hand and spreading to every vein. It burned him, energized him. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he could see it begin to glow.

This bastard wasn't going to take Colette away from him. He wasn't going to keep his father from him. Lloyd wouldn't let him. He'd already failed too many times, he wasn't going to fail now. So he let the anger swallow him, let it give him strength, power his muscles. He clasped Flamberge with both hands and stepped past Colette, swiping at the angels' chest. When the sword made contact, it was not some unearthly or angelic experience—the blade met only flesh, vulnerable, penetrable, and all too human.

Lloyd didn't know what the inside of an angel was made of, but he was about to find out.

Remiel retreated in a spray of white feathers, clutching the wound on his chest. Lloyd followed, exspheres pouring power into his blood. Then Sheena was there beside him, casting seals and swinging cards, chanting her own spells. The angel, caught off guard, flew back and swung his arms, striking the floor before him with bursts of white-hot light. Lloyd and Sheena twisted around the pillars of white, and somewhere behind him, he heard the chanting of magic. With a hoarse shout, Genis bellowed an elven incantation and Remiel burst into flames. The angel twisted, retreated, swung out his arms and cast whatever defensive spell was left to him, all the while thrashing and screaming. White feathers turned to ash, clothes billowed with smoke, and Lloyd could smell the distinct scent of burning hair.

He wouldn't miss this opportunity. He leapt on the angel, sword tip outthrust. The blade met its mark, piercing Remiel through the neck and emerging, covered in blood—red blood, normal blood—from the other side. Lloyd didn't notice the flames—every part of him, his veins, lungs, heart, muscles, they were all already burning. When he pulled his sword from the angel and jumped back down to the floor, he found he was miraculously unharmed. Without missing a beat, he leapt over Remiel's motionless, charred body, and ran to Colette, still powered on by that rage that had destroyed the angel.

Before he could even get to her, a white pillar of light blinded him. He shielded his eyes, squinting.

And there he was. The man who had stolen his father, who had threatened to choke the life out of him. Yggdrasill turned, smiling coldly, ethereal and bright. Lloyd gripped his sword and dashed toward him.

"You! What have you done with my father?" When Lloyd thrust out at him, he stepped aside effortlessly.

"Ah, the pesky offspring. If you must know, Kratos is alive and well. Maybe not so well." Yggdrasill laughed, and Lloyd swung at him again. With a curl of bright wings, the man eased himself just out of reach. "He wouldn't appreciate it if I killed you outright," Yggdrasill said. "But the thought is tempting." He raised his hand, light gathering in his palm.

Lloyd jumped back, twisting his body as the beam of magic arced for him, but it hit him square in the chest. He went blind, his lungs froze, his head filled with a searing, skull-splitting brightness. All was white-hot pain, worse than Kvar's lightning, worse than the most intense tremors of his exspheres, worse than the helpless ache of seeing the world fall apart around him.

He fell to the ground, and darkness swallowed him whole.


	15. The Other Side

"You failed."

It took momentous energy just to crack his eyes open. His head burned, he felt heavy, like every muscle was made of stone. "What…" he croaked.

"You failed. You both did. I'm disappointed."

Lloyd sat up, squinting, to find himself in a room so tacky he could swear that he'd seen something like it in a museum once. He felt like he was being swallowed by pastel cherubs, bending marble pillars and light… or was this still a dream? He opened his eyes all the way, yawning himself awake. Yes, he'd been here before... or somewhere just like it. No doubt about it, this is where interior decorating came to die.

And there was Yuan's face, topping everything off. The half-elf was hovering over him, wearing a frustrated frown. He gulped, thinking he should probably ditch thinking about the decorating and make up some excuse as to why he'd gone and assisted the target he was supposed to kill. Some assassin he was.

"I didn't... um... did you save me?" Lloyd asked him, trying to remember what had happened. There was a bright light, and then...

"Not me. My right hand man, Botta. The next time you see him, you'd better get on your knees and thank him." Yuan stood up, and Lloyd blinked, trying to get control of himself. Everything was so bright, and he was sore up to his eyelids. Gods, he could barely move. "You are by far the worst henchman I've ever had," Yuan told him. "You get orders to kill the Chosen, and what do you do? Try to complete the Regeneration. We barely got there in time to stop it. We lost a lot of good soldiers in this whole mess."

Lloyd pushed himself up onto his elbows, every bone creaking. "I... What even happened?"

Yuan glanced over his shoulder at him. "I suppose I should first thank you for disposing of Remiel for us. But that's about as helpful as you got. Now you've gone and pissed off Cruxis, and they'll be riding the Renegades' collective tail for saving you."

Cruxis... The name seemed familiar, somehow, but Lloyd couldn't think properly right now. Not at least until he was fully awake. "Is... Yggdrasill…"

"You didn't leave a damn scratch on him. You seem to have tried pretty hard, though." Yuan crossed his arms and sighed.

"He took my father," Lloyd managed to groan.

"He did."

"And what does my dad have to do with Cruxis?"

"It's a long story. All you need to know is that he and Yggdrasill used to be old friends. They go way back."

"How far back? Who is he? Who  _is_  that guy?" Lloyd spat, not bothering to hide his frustration.

"Yggdrasill is the founder of Cruxis, the Desians, and by extension, the Church of Martel. He's ultimately responsible for the human ranches, the mana imbalances, and the ritual of Regeneration. And I'm the one who's trying to stop him, so you'd better pull yourself together and help me if you know what's good for the world.'

This information was a little much for Lloyd's tired brain, but he managed to throw off the covers and get both feet on the floor. "Where is she?" he asked Yuan. "The Chosen?"

"She's in the next room."

"How is she?"

"Well, that depends on your outlook," Yuan said, eyebrow raised. "I'd say she's safer now than she's ever been, being in self-preservation mode and all. However, she does seem to have lost her soul."

"No…" Lloyd miraculously forced himself to get up, limping on his sore legs to the door. Yuan sighed and followed him.

Colette was in the next room, standing in the corner, staring. The others kept a fair distance away from her, as if she were a bomb waiting to go off. They all raised their eyes to Lloyd as he entered. When he made a bee line for Colette, Raine outstretched a hand reluctantly.

"Lloyd, I wouldn't touch her if I were you. She's extremely dangerous in her present state."

Lloyd didn't know what she meant and didn't care, all he knew is that somehow, this was his fault. He walked up to the Chosen and opened his arms, while the others flinched, covering their faces. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Contrary to his companions' expectations, Colette didn't explode. She didn't do anything. She just stood, mindless and pale.

Yuan crossed his arms. "Since the Regeneration is not exactly completed, we'll be keeping the Chosen in custody."

"No you're not," Lloyd said, letting Colette go and looking into her dead eyes.

"Yeah, we can't just  _leave_ her—" Genis started.

"You can and you will. She will be safest here, at least until such time as we can neutralize her."

The room quieted. Sheena dropped her cards, Raine raised her head, and Genis went white. "Wait," Genis said. " _Neutralize_?"

"Like hell you will," Lloyd growled, reaching for his sword. His hand grasped air, and he looked down to see it gone. He swore under his breath and grabbed Colette's hand instead. She didn't retaliate, but let him drag her across the room and past Yuan, who backed up and let them pass. Raine, Sheena and Genis looked at one another before following him at a distance. It seemed to Lloyd they were all afraid of what the Chosen would do. He was sure they all knew in their hearts that she wouldn't hurt them if she could help it. The only question was if she could help it.

"Where do you think you're going, Lloyd?" Yuan called after them. "You're not thinking about stealing the Chosen, are you?"

"Yeah, I am," Lloyd called back, speeding up. He hoped that if he couldn't outrun Yuan, he could at least keep him at a distance by threatening him with Colette. He seemed genuinely terrified of her in this state.

His companions caught up to him, trotting beside him, keeping suspicious eyes on the Chosen. "Lloyd, seriously," Genis hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Getting out of here, what does it look like?" he said.

"Yes, but  _how_?" Genis asked.

"I don't know."

Sheena smiled. "Not sticking around for our punishment, huh? I don't blame you. Well, what the hell. Ex-assassins on the run has a nice ring to it. They'll tell stories about us." She turned a corner and took the lead. "This is the way to the rheiard bay. Better follow me if you want out."

"Don't you ever want to see your father again?" Yuan called after them, still keeping his distance.

"You don't have him, so you can't give him back to me," Lloyd answered. Raine had taken Colette's other hand and they all led her down the hall, unafraid.

"Lloyd, listen to me. You must leave the Chosen with us. She's extremely dangerous."

"No way."

"I don't think you have any idea what you're doing."

Lloyd grimaced. Yuan was absolutely right. But he never had any idea what he was doing, and he had survived so far, albeit barely. All he knew is that he wasn't going to leave Colette with these people, especially if they considered her a threat. Lloyd knew what powerful people did to threats, and Yuan seemed powerful enough. He wasn't going to let Colette turn into a nipped bud, a number on a casualty list.

He only bit his lip and kept running after Sheena, trying to lose Yuan in the maze of halls. When they reached the landing bay, there were no guards waiting for them. Lloyd began to wonder if Yuan planned for them to escape, just to see what would happen. That man was truly an odd duck.

"Hurry-hurry-hurry-hurry," Sheena chanted, fiddling with the launch computer. They didn't even wait for the far door to fully open before they booted up the machines. Lloyd placed Colette in the seat in front of him, making sure she couldn't fall off, and stroked the back of her unmoving head before sputtering off into the sky.

*

"Shall I retrieve them, sir?" Botta asked, somewhat irked.

"No. I don't want to lose any more men because of this fiasco. Not because Lloyd's turning into his father."

"Sir?"

"An obdurate, well-intentioned thorn in my side. Too single-minded to listen to reason. I have a long list of four thousand years of complaints, but I won't bore you."

"Respectfully, sir, I'm quite used to you boring me."

Yuan snorted. "Just have our friend keep an eye on them. Keep your distance, but if there's any sign of Mithos, don't hesitate to do what you need to. Be sure to inform me of any developments."

Botta bowed, and made his way to the door of the rheiard bay. "If I may be so bold, I think you're going too easy on him, sir. If I failed you like he and Sheena have I'd expect to be put between a wall and a firing squad. Rightfully so. Please assure me you're not just sentimental—"

"You're dismissed, Botta." He nodded and left Yuan alone in the bay, with only the buzzing of the lights to keep him company.

Perhaps he had not towed the line enough with Botta, letting him talk to him like that. But he needed the man, and he needed him now more than ever. He needed his fearlessness, his booming voice, his strong persona, his ability to slip into and out of commanding roles like clothing. Yuan had a nagging, self-accusatory feeling that if Botta were in charge of the Renegades, Mithos would've been dead long ago. Maybe it was true, maybe all their failings were a result of soft leadership. Perhaps Yuan should get harder, more cruel, like Mithos. He really should use the firing squad more often. Come to think of it, he should actually bother to arrange a firing squad. But first he would have to read a few treatises on the logistics and ethics of intra-military tribunals, fair trials, humane execution methods...

*

Kratos did nothing. He did not eat or drink, he barely breathed. For hours on end, he could only retreat into himself to escape the discomfort. His eyelids flickered, but he was not asleep—sleep was too merciful. Instead he hung suspended in the soporific haze between consciousness and dream, trying to lose himself.

He was lying with Anna, on a rented bed in some back-alley hotel in Palmacosta, stroking her hair. She snored slightly, and he decided he might as well go get her some breakfast. He stood up, but her hand shot out and grabbed his before he could leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" she said, pulling him back down on the bed. She squeezed his hand before setting it on her pregnant belly. She was enormous, and all the more beautiful for it. He leaned down, resting his head against her stretched skin, and could hear a second, tiny heartbeat thump along with hers. He grinned broadly.

"I know it's a boy," Anna said.

"I don't think so." Kratos would've preferred a daughter. After all those years of Mithos, those terrible, mindless, war-torn years, he was finished with wayward sons.

"You think you know better than the person who actually has the baby inside her?"

"Humph."

"Come here, you gloomy bastard." She pulled him to her and kissed his forehead. "You don't know anything."

"Perhaps not." He lay there in her arms, trying to think ahead to the future. How on earth would they manage to support a baby, when they could barely feed themselves? He might have to take some dangerous jobs if he wanted to make enough to support all of them.

"I was thinking of some names. Thomas, George—I had a brother named George who died in a tornado outside Asgard. Or Mithos."

"Gods, anything but Mithos," Kratos said, blood draining from his face. That would be the cruelest joke she could play on him—naming the child Mithos. "How about Annabel?"

"That's not a boy's name."

"Well, you never know."

"I'll bet you it's a boy."

Oh, no. Anna was a sucker for bets. "How much?" he asked.

"A hundred thousand gald. You can build me a house with that. We can finally settle down."

"Anna, you know we can't."

"I'm just kidding, you grump. This will be the most well-traveled baby on the planet. He'll know every language, all the cities of Sylvarant, he'll have a girlfriend in every port."

"He sounds like he'll turn out like you." Headstrong and kindhearted, perhaps a little too vulgar, and with no room for silence. Kratos would love to have a child like Anna—there would never be a dull moment. He leaned over and kissed her nose.

"I was thinking Lloyd," she said.

"For a name?"

"Yeah."

"That's a terrible name."

"Not nearly as bad as Kratos. Seriously, what were your parents thinking?"

Kratos laughed. "It was a different time then. Boy's names ending in -os were all the rage, it seemed. I knew three different Enoses growing up. Four Porthoses, two Deimoses, and so many Xenoses I couldn't keep track of them all." And one Mithos. One very important Mithos.

"Gods, you kids back then. No, Lloyd is a perfectly fine name compared to all those."

"I guess it is."

As he lay there, he thought of all the names of his friends, companions, fellow soldiers of the Great Kharlan War. Zephiros, Vymos, Enos the Bloody, even a woman called Wilmos, whose parents insisted she be named after her grandfather. All dead now, thousands of years gone. They were scattered across the world in the form of soil, leaves, rivers and wind. He wondered if he would see them after he died, when he stepped back into the waters from which they had all come.

His thoughts fell into silence when a strangely familiar voice wafted in through the inn's window. It spoke nonsense, and he could make nothing of it. Fear bubbled in his stomach. "Stay here," he told Anna, and went to peer out the glass.

It was Yuan. And Kratos was not in Palmacosta. He was strung up, hands tied, body broken. Tubes fed into his arms, mana ducts into his back. Mithos had walked him through the functions and processes of the machine to which he was now connected, but Kratos had a hard time paying attention to the details. He had a hard time paying attention to anything these days…

"What…" he croaked.

"I said, your son has a thieving problem," Yuan sighed, shaking his head. "Kvar's henchmen are complaining that he's stolen the Angelus exsphere, and now he's taken some of my rheiards. Don't tell me you've taught him all that."

"No…" Kratos couldn't think. Where was Lloyd? And where was Anna? She was just here a moment ago, beside him, smiling…

"He left Flamberge with me. Accidentally, of course. When he comes back, and he will soon, I'll give it back to him."

Flamberge? He hadn't seen that blade for years. That was the sword he had used in the War. How the hell did Yuan get it? And where was he? Where was Lloyd?

"We're running out of time, Kratos. The Chosen's in a fit state to be Martel's vessel, Mithos is hammering down on the Renegades—I'm fairly sure he knows about me now. I don't know why he hasn't tried to kill me yet. This'll probably be the last time I'll be able to come here."

"Where's… Lloyd? Who is…"

"Gods, Kratos, he's truly made a mess of you. At this point I can only wish you the best of luck and leave you in peace. Please try to die quickly so the seal can break. Otherwise, I'll be back here in a while, when I come to take down Mithos. If you're not dead by then, I guess I'll have to do it myself. Goodbye for now, old friend."

Kratos barely heard Yuan walk away, footsteps echoing through the empty halls of Derris-Kharlan. With the sinister stranger gone, Kratos retreated from the window and returned to the silent hotel room.

"Who was that?" Anna asked.

"No one," he answered. He lay down beside her, wrapped her in his arms and closed his eyes, burying his face in her neck.

*

The rheiards, not fully powered before takeoff, crash-landed somewhere near Meltokio. Fortunately, everyone was more taken-aback than they were actually injured.

"Well, that was one of the stupidest things I've ever done," Sheena couldn't help smiling, face covered in the dust stirred up by their less-than-perfect landing. She had a couple bruises on her elbows but not much else to complain about.

"We're all okay, though," Lloyd said, helping Colette off the vehicle.

"Yeah, well, now we have broken rheiards, a sick Chosen, and I don't think the Renegades will just let us take their stuff," Genis groaned. "We should probably hide these."

"Or at least move them," Sheena suggested. "We'll have to go to Meltokio for some help with that." She stretched, cracking her back, breathing in the fresh, cool air. She seemed relieved to be home. "So, we should get going, shouldn't we?"

It only took them a few hours to make their way to the capital. The roads were clear, the sky hung a deep, cloudless blue over them, and even though Colette still walked quietly and lifelessly behind them, their sad silence turned quickly to fascination.

"It smells so  _good_ here, sis," Genis said.

"It smells like mana," Raine answered quietly. Lloyd could not read her expression. Perhaps she was busy remembering the earliest parts of her childhood, when she was surrounded by such air. Lloyd knew even the simplest smell, like a meal or a flower, could bring back memories he'd thought had left him. Raine seemed to take in the whole scene with a bewildered, shocked sort of wonder.

When they got to the city, Genis nearly fainted with excitement. "Look at it, Raine! It's so  _big_! I've never seen anything like this!" He started to run down the street, lost in his frenzied desire to explore.

"Genis, don't wander!" Raine chased after him, desperately reaching for him before he turned a corner and vanished among the busy shops. She stopped to glance over her shoulder. "I'll meet you at the inn!"

"Which one?" Lloyd yelled after her.

"There's more than one? I'll come find you!" She disappeared into the crowds, chasing Genis. Lloyd had a feeling she was just as excited to explore the city as her little brother. She would most definitely make her way to the Research Institute soon enough, and probably never reappear from its extensive library.

"I have to go to the Institute to make my report," Sheena said. "If Yuan hasn't already told them of my failure. But I'll explain the situation—the Regeneration, the angels, that freaky bastard Yggdrasill. I'm sure they'll have some reconsiderations." Sheena crossed her arms and smiled. "I bet Raine will eventually end up there, too. I swear, that woman can sniff out books and scientific equipment from  _miles_  away."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Lloyd laughed. He took Colette's hand, and she didn't protest. "I'll go find a cheap inn. I've stayed here before."

"The big one at the edge of the slums?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Good. I'll meet you there. Take care of Colette."

Lloyd was sure she could take care of herself, now that she was apparently a ticking time bomb. "I will."

He led her to the creaking old hotel, checked into two separate rooms, and footed the bill. He didn't mind—Sheena had paid for everything when they were after the Chosen, and he still had a little money leftover from what he found in his father's stash on the top of that mountain.

He led Colette to the bar and motioned for her to sit. She did, expressionless, empty. He frowned. "Mead, please," he told the man behind the counter, then looked at Colette. "Two, please."

"That's a quiet girlfriend you have there, sonny," he answered, chuckling.

"She's feeling a little under the weather. A cold."

"Does she want hers heated? We have it spicy, too. Clears your nostrils right up."

"Sure," Lloyd said, unsure. He turned and surveyed the bar. It was mostly empty, just a couple of girls looking like they might be waiting for a friend. He turned back around when his drinks were brought, and scooted one in front of Colette to see if she'd be interested in it. He asked her if she wanted to drink: no answer. He commanded her to, and she reached out a white hand and gripped the mug, but didn't bring it to her lips. Bless her, she looked like she was trying so hard, struggling in that expressionless body, a body so unlike her own.

He sat in silence, drinking. It made so little sense to him, that  _this_  was the final product of the Regeneration. What the hell did that Yggdrasill guy have to gain by doing this to Colette? And what about his dad—

"Hey little lady, is this guy boring you?"

Lloyd spun around, sure that he'd heard that voice before, and saw Tethe'alla's Chosen leering at Colette, crouched over the bar like some sort of half-drunk panther.

"I bet I could give you a better time," he said, apparently without noticing Lloyd.

"You!" Lloyd said.

"Me?" Zelos replied, slipping an arm around Colette.

"Wait, don't do that!"

"What, you're scared she's gonna—" A swift elbow to the throat shut him up momentarily, but unfortunately not for good. "Whoa, girl, you've got…" He coughed obtrusively. "Some muscles on you." He looked at Lloyd and scrunched up his face. "Hey, do I know you?" he asked.

"Yeah. We um… got into a fight a while ago."

"Did we? Oh yeah, you're that cretin who broke my nose!"

"I didn't break your nose." Zelos' nose looked like it had never seen a fist in its life. "I mean… look at it. It's… perfect."

"Why, thank you," Zelos said. Lloyd could see a few of his hackles lower as he bent over the bar. "I would recommend Dr. Sals. She's the best surgeon in town." He twisted around, wearing a cruel half-smile. "You look like you might need her, what with that chin and all."

Lloyd knew he shouldn't take the bait. He didn't have the time, or the energy. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't have cosmetic surgeons where you're from?"

"No."

"Such a shame. You're only a few operations away from being half as pretty as this girl here—"

Lloyd stood up.

"Oh-ho, you wanna start something?" Zelos seemed nothing but pleased. "You wanna tussle, huh?"

Lloyd narrowed his eyes at him while Colette watched passively. "Maybe."

"Hey Lloyd!" Sheena's voice tore their glares apart. She strode up to them and practically wedged herself between them. "Zelos. Fancy meeting you here."

"Sheena, my  _darling_ , how are things?" Zelos turned from belligerent to flirty like a light.

"They were fine until you apparently decided to pick a fight with my friend."

"He's your friend? What kind of friend?"

She ignored the question. "What is it with you? Half a pint in and all you wanna do is throw punches."

"Sheena, you know that's not true. I'm just scared you're off picking up men without telling me. You're not, are you?"

"Like you need to know anything about it. What are you doing around here?"

"Oh, just the usual. Having fun. Living life. But you know, I've heard some disturbing news." He got quiet all of a sudden, and his cruel smile returned. "I heard you didn't even kill the Chosen over on the other side."

Sheena went pale. "H-how could you know that? I filed my report five minutes ago."

Zelos shrugged. "A Chosen knows another Chosen when he sees one." He nodded at Colette. "She doesn't look too good, though. You did this to her?"

Sheena grit her teeth. "Sort of. I helped. We all did."

"So this is what Regeneration looks like," he said, eyeing Colette's Cruxis Crystal and her empty, wan face. "Better her than me I guess…"

"What?" Sheena asked.

"What?" Zelos replied, seemingly clueless. "Nothing, hunny, nothing. Did you say something? How about you sit down with me and your friend…" He nudged Lloyd.

"Lloyd."

"Your friend Lloyd, and have a drink with us?"

Sheena sighed. "I don't see why not. Someone has to keep you two from starting a brawl. Might as well have a swig while we wait for the wonder siblings to get bored of the big city. They stopped by the Institute but left again when they heard it didn't even have the biggest library in town. They're probably trying to break into the royal collection as we speak. It'll take them  _forever_  to get back, I bet."

According to Sheena's prediction, it took "forever" (which was apparently about two hours, by Meltokio time) for Raine and Genis to arrive. By then, the three of them were sufficiently drunk to not mind the wait, and not mind the mild scolding they all received from Raine upon her return for getting drunk at all.

"Well, what did you  _expect_ us to do?" Sheena said. She had ordered Raine a glass of wine when the half-elf dragged her (and everyone else) to a back corner. She sat them all down, looked them over, and sighed. "Well, I had hoped we could discuss what to do next, but since you're all… well…"

"Oh relax," Zelos said (he had wormed his way into their little table, regardless of Raine shoving him away). "You've got me to help you out."

"Who  _are_  you?" Raine asked, bewildered.

"I'm the Chosen," he said proudly.

"He's all right," Sheena said. "If anything, he might be able to give us info on how to fix Colette."

"Of course!" Zelos said. "I'm always willing to help out a beautiful girl, especially another Chosen. We've gotta stick together, you know. 'Specially when shit like that—" he nodded to her, almost sadly—"happens to us."

Raine looked at Lloyd, who shrugged. She then looked at Sheena, who raised a glass and nodded. Eventually she resorted to looking at Colette, who did nothing at all.

So they sat around the table at the back of the bar, talking quietly, well into the night.

"Firstly, we need to figure out how to get Colette back to normal, if possible," Raine said. "And also… to get Lloyd a key crest that fits his exsphere."

"Well,  _that's_  an easy fix!" Zelos laughed. "Anyway, what the hell are you doing wandering around without a key crest, stupid?" The others stared at him and his smile disappeared. "What's with those looks, guys? I guess there's something I don't know?"

"Well," Genis started. It took them about half an hour to explain the exsphere manufacturing process to him. It was a slapdash, heavily abridged version, interrupted with Zelos' gasps and exclamations of disbelief, but by the end of it he had turned pale.

"Hell. That is one huge bummer," he muttered. His pensive dismay only lasted a few seconds, and soon he was absurdly cheery once more. "Well, Lloyd, if you need a fancy key crest, I got you there, my man. I'll drag you out on the greatest shopping spree the world has ever known."

"Zelos, he only needs one thing," Sheena put in.

"Yeah, well, look at his clothes, Sheena. It's embarrassing to be seen with someone so hideously underdressed. No offense, bud."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "None taken."

"Can we just buy Colette a key crest too?" Genis asked.

"We might be able to," Zelos said. "But Cruxis Crystals are a little different than exspheres. Crests for those have to be commissioned, usually. I got mine made 'specially by the Pope's crew in Sybak. High-tech stuff. But I've heard of a dwarf that lives near Ozette. Name's Altessa. He might be able to make one for her. There's a girl who brings the sacred wood every day to the palace—she'll be able to guide us through the boonies."

Raine looked at all of them, and each nodded. It was as good a plan as any.

"But that's later," Zelos said. "Tomorrow you're coming with me, bud!" He wrapped his arm around Lloyd's neck and rubbed his head furiously. Lloyd sighed, resigned to his fate.

*

Kvar stood over him, smiling. Lloyd couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. He could barely lift his head, but when he did, he saw Flamberge protruding from his chest. Blood trickled from his wound and slid down his side, pooling on the floor below him. Kvar, delighted with the whole situation, grabbed the hilt of the sword and jiggled it playfully.

Pain shot from Lloyd's chest to his extremities. He opened his mouth and screamed, trying to banish the agony coursing through every muscle. Kvar knelt down beside him and leaned on his chest, careful to avoid Flamberge's sharp blade, and mumbled something Lloyd couldn't hear over his own moaning. Kvar reached out a hand and covered Lloyd's mouth, keeping the screams inside. No way would he allow himself to be drowned out by the cries of an inferior being—only Kvar's voice was allowed here, and Lloyd knew it in his gut. Kvar leaned in, reaching for Lloyd's left hand, commanding him to give up and be still. Lloyd, of course, did his best to struggle against the Desian's grip, but the sword kept him in place, and the pain was too much. Kvar lifted Lloyd's left hand, examining it and smiling. He squeezed it tight, leaned in, and began to speak.

He told Lloyd everything. Everything he had done to his mother, everything he was going to do to him. Exhaustive outlines of back-breaking labor, specific methods of torture, the proper procedure to remove the exsphere once it was done sapping his life, all in excruciating detail. Kvar walked him through all the methodic particulars of effectively skinning a human being, what tools can be used for what agonizing purposes, how to cheaply and reliably dispose of hundreds of corpses en bloc. With each story, Lloyd shook more and more, screaming soundlessly, as his exsphere shot agony into his veins. Kvar just leaned on his chest, smiling, and continued speech after speech, story after story. After a while, he seemed to decide impersonal logistics of human ranching weren't enough, so he recounted Lloyd's mother's internment, her trip to the scalding showers, the implant of her exsphere, the beatings, the work, the operations, the experiments and the emotional manipulation. With each word Lloyd's exsphere throbbed more and more.

The Desian seemed to enjoy every minute of it, watching the exsphere carefully, as if expecting it to grow. He kept poking at it, prodding at it, smiling, telling Lloyd all about the things he had done to her. After one particularly disturbing account of torture that could've possibly led to his conception, Lloyd couldn't take it anymore. He shut his eyes and turned his head away, trying to sink through the floor.  _Let me die,_  he begged,  _please, let me die._

"Lloyd." When he looked back, Kvar was gone, and there was his father, bloodstained and desperate, clawing at him, calling his name over, and over. "Lloyd, Lloyd, Lloyd!" Stop, he cried, but as usual, no sound came out.

"Lloyd! Wake up, dammit!" He gasped awake, his arm on fire. Genis stood over him, shaking him, panting and full of worry. "Thank Martel. Are you okay? You were screaming and screaming."

Lloyd looked down at his arm and his heart almost stopped. Black, throbbing veins crawled their way up his wrist from his exsphere, between greenish, peeling patches of skin. Lloyd swore, rubbing his arm, trying to get the sickness to go back into the little stone.

"Oh crap," Genis muttered when he spied Lloyd's exsphere. "Stay here, I'll get Raine." And then he was gone, out the door and down the hall, leaving Lloyd alone with that terrible evil crawling up his arm. He struggled, trying to scratch the black skin away, trying to get the pain to stop, but nothing seemed to work. After far too long, Raine burst through the door and hurried to Lloyd's bedside. By that time, Lloyd thought he had got the spread of the strange disease under control, but his arm still throbbed, sending tremors of pain through him.

"Are you all right?" Raine asked him, voice shaking a little. "Let me look at that."

Reluctantly, Lloyd showed her his exsphere and the green, swollen skin around it. Raine traced the black veins, and wherever her fingers touched him, a stinging pain followed. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Well, duh," he answered, gritting his teeth.

"Is the pain receding?"

"Um. Yeah."

"Tell me all about it. What triggered it. How it feels and where it hurts."

Lloyd did. For some reason, talking about it seemed to lessen the pain. He described all the sensations, physical and mental, that accompanied the activity of the little rock. He purposefully left out the content of his nightmare, telling her only as much as he dared.

"It was Kvar," he mumbled. "He was… he had stabbed me. With my own sword."

"Anything else?"

"No, just… it was just so painful."

Raine's expression darkened. "It's a good thing you're going out to get a key crest tomorrow," she said. "You need one, badly. I can give you something for the pain, and something to help you sleep, but I'm afraid that's all I can do for now."

"I think I'm okay."

"Nonsense. I'll be back in a few minutes with something for you. Tell me if anything changes. I'll be out getting medical supplies while you're looking for a key crest. Hopefully we can make this whole thing a little less painful for you." Raine left in a hurry, leaving the door open behind her. Lloyd hoped he hadn't woken anyone else up with his obnoxious yelling.

Genis looked at him, rings under his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? It took forever to wake you up."

Lloyd didn't bother to answer him; instead he pointed to a shadow behind him. "Is that... Colette?" he asked.

Genis turned. He seemed unconcerned with the looming shadow of the Sylvaranti Chosen, hovering like a ghost in the doorway. "Oh, yes. She wanders. Raine didn't want her to get into any trouble so she practically locked her up tonight. Come on, Colette. Come on back to your room." He reached out to her a little nervously, still not daring to touch her.

"It's all right," Lloyd said. "If she wants to stay here, she can. It... helps, you know. With the dreams. It helps if I'm not alone."

"Well… okay." Genis moved out of Colette's way and she walked to the center of the room, where she stood and stared. She looked like a doll, lifeless, motionless, almost creepy. Lloyd could see Genis shiver in the dim moonlight. "If you want her here... I'll leave her. Raine will be back soon. You can talk with her about it."

Lloyd watched him go, then turned his gaze to Colette. He examined her soulless eyes, her pale skin, her expressionless face. Even the way she carried herself was different.  _Wrong_ , even. It seemed that this body was only the bare outline of what had once been Colette, the structural leftovers, like metal crossbeams of a burnt building. He wondered if she was still in there somewhere, or if she was long gone. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

*

Shopping with Zelos proved to be exactly what Lloyd expected. The Chosen dragged him down the gaudiest, most ostentatious streets, practically slamming him up against windows, commanding him to look at that shirt, look at that key crest, check out the rack on that mannequin, wasn't he hungry, they should probably stop and get a beer or something…

Lloyd simply followed Zelos, passive. For a while he thought they were being followed by a stranger, but the stranger turned out to be Zelos' butler, who was tasked with carrying all the useless crap they were buying.

Zelos picked out a few key crests, a new pair of pants, some stunning cufflinks, and tossed them all into the servant's arms.

"Who is this for, my lord?" the patient servant asked.

"For my bud!" Zelos answered before throwing some more clothes into his trembling arms.

Lloyd offered to help the butler carry the enormous pile of loot, but he simply shook his head. "It's not your job, Sir Bud."

"It's Lloyd, actually."

"Of course, Sir Bud."

Lloyd gave up and allowed himself to get dragged from shop to bar, from bar to other bar, and back to shops, for an entire day. Zelos bought him clothes, hats, jewelry, key crests, a new sword, pretty much anything that caught his eye. As the sun set, Zelos and Lloyd stopped at the end of the shopping district to sort through their booty.

"This one is hideous, I can't believe I bought this," Zelos said, and threw a key crest onto the street. It pained Lloyd to see that expensive of an item get tossed to the wind, and he almost chased it down. He stopped himself, for the sake of what Zelos kept referring to as "dignity."

"Martel above! These too, they have to go," the Chosen grumbled. Cufflinks flew onto the cobblestone.

"Why are you throwing all that stuff away?" Lloyd asked. "You paid for it."

"Oh, Lloyd, how little you know. I'm the Chosen, bud. I'm filthy rich. Also, I like doing charity work." He tossed a gold pocket watch to a pair of dirt-coated street kids, who immediately began fighting over it. "Look at them go," Zelos laughed.

Lloyd felt guilty, almost obscene, hauling all of his new, expensive junk back to the inn. He wasn't looking forward to Zelos playing dress-up with him, but when he emerged from his room in an outfit the Chosen had picked for him, he couldn't deny he was impressed with himself. He had a high collar, sleek, well-trimmed pants, and a jacket that made him look remarkably well-off. He almost couldn't recognize himself.

"All right, now we can go  _out_!" Zelos cried joyfully.

"For what?" Sheena asked. She had been lurking in the background, arms crossed, for Goddess knew how long, watching the outrageous spectacle.

"For some booze, gambling and loose women, of course," Zelos said. "Oh, yes, and this. I completely forgot." Zelos produced three key crests he had bought that day. They were all gold, fashioned in shapes that were all the rage that season. Apparently the Chosen had put style first on his priorities while looking for one. "I picked out all the ones that looked like they would fit your exsphere. Which one do you like?" he asked.

"Um. This one?" Lloyd picked up the middle one.

"Good choice. Put it on so we can go party."

Lloyd fiddled with his exsphere for a moment before snapping the key crest under it. A sharp pain zipped through his arm, then abated. He felt the exsphere's power diminish, and his hand almost felt normal again. Perhaps this really could buy him some time, if he was lucky. Knowing his luck, though...

"All right, looks good!" Zelos said, jerking him out of his thoughts. "Now, it's off to the pub!"

"Which one?" Lloyd asked.

"What?" Zelos seemed taken aback. " _All_  of them, of course!"


	16. Forests

Kratos didn't know why he was so sore. He must've been working too hard recently, or perhaps he had managed to injure himself. He cursed himself for getting into this painful state. Especially at a time like this, when strength was needed, when Anna was still recovering from the biggest ordeal of her life—besides, of course, her interment at Kvar's ranch. That had taken its toll on both of them.

Kratos couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed her somehow, for being so weak at such an important time. He knelt beside her as she cradled the fat, red-faced lump that was their baby. It gurgled and cried, stubby and barely human.

"A boy. I guess I win the bet," Anna said quietly, smiling.

"I guess you do."

"Here. Hold him." She was so weak she could barely lift little Lloyd into his arms.

He took the tiny thing, amazed and somehow terrified. Kratos Aurion, who had survived the Great Kharlan War and every battle, every massacre, every disaster since, who had bested four thousand years of opponents and built the future on a mountain of their corpses, the warrior who had literally ripped the world in half and remolded it—suddenly paralyzed by an infant. "How do I hold him?" he asked, trying to make sure he didn't break the little creature in half. You'd think after a couple thousand years, he'd have figured everything out by now, but his hands were so used to destroying, to killing. It was strange for him to be holding this fragile thing, especially something that he made. Well, Anna had done most of the work, but he had certainly helped.

"You're doing fine. Just don't drop him," Anna laughed. "Or he'll be funny in the head like you."

Kratos knew he was going to drop the baby. He knew he was going to break it, to kill it somehow. "Oh, gods, Anna, I can't. Here, you take him."

"Ha! Look at you, Kratos! Already the overprotective father." Even in her post-birth haze of exhaustion, she could still find some cheer in the situation, but she refused to take the child back. "Get used to holding him. I don't think I'm ever going to touch him again, after what he did to my poor nether-regions."

"Don't say that," Kratos told her, but he knew she would be a great mother. She liked to joke around, but she was the kind of woman who would sing to her giant belly every night in the hopes that the child would come out healthier and more musically inclined. Kratos was not sure if it would work, but he humored her, mostly because he loved her voice and wanted her to sing more often. He knew that there was plenty of motherly humming in the future, and he looked forward to it, even to that one love song he couldn't stand. Rest Easy, My Darling, or whatever it was. Gods, it was corny.

He held the baby close to him and closed his eyes, listening for its heartbeat, as he had done during its months of gestation. Curiously, no sound came to his ears, so he leaned closer, until his ear was right at the infant's chest. He knew the baby had a strong heart, so why couldn't he hear it now? He frowned, listening desperately, but heard only silence. He started to panic. "Anna, he's not—" When he looked up, Anna was gone. He glanced down at his hands and his baby was gone too. Everything, gone. Only he was left. He and that ever-expanding darkness, the darkness he could not fight against, enveloping and swallowing him whole.

"Kratos." The voice drifted into his hearing like a soft wind, kind and gentle. "Kratos..."

Kratos lifted his eyes and saw a boy, thin and elegant, in front of him. He was floating, he was made of light, arms open. Kratos couldn't see his face; it was obscured by the hazy illumination of his bright skin.

"Lloyd," he muttered, hoping he guessed right, hoping that this was the baby who had disappeared only moments ago, that his son had returned to him, grown, healthy, strong.

"Dad..."

When the boy stepped toward him, he saw it was not Lloyd, it was a different boy, an older one, hair as golden as the sun and heart darker than shadow. Had he come out of the expansive blackness to torment him, or was he...

Mithos embraced him, leaning up to his ear and whispering fervently, "Yuan's gone. He'll be dead soon. It'll just be you, me, and Martel. Don't worry."

Kratos' heart skipped a beat. "Dead..." he moaned.

"Dad," Mithos corrected. "That's you. Your brain's a little hazy, isn't it? It's okay, it's just a side effect of the mana drainage. You'll be free soon. Everything will go back to normal." Kratos twitched when a soft pair of lips pecked him on the cheek. His skin stung, almost as if he had been struck instead of kissed. "I will be back for you soon. Wait here for me."

The shining boy evaporated like light-struck steam, and for what he hoped was the last time in his life, Kratos was abandoned in the gaping mouth of the vast darkness.

*

Lloyd could barely walk. The sun burnt his eyes, and his stomach turned over with every step. He threw up twice on the way out of town. He could only remember bits and pieces of what happened the night before—he had woken up with some serious bruises, so he assumed he had either jumped off a building or gotten into a fight. And he remembered… yes, he remembered stumbling into his room, and finding Colette there, staring out the window, motionless. He had tried to walk over to her, but only tripped over his own feet. He had fallen right next to her, and she had not even noticed. So he curled himself at her feet and begged her for forgiveness.

"Come back to us, Colette," he remembered saying. "We miss you. Raine misses you. Genis, too. We all do. Come back. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She only stared out the window, ignoring his voice. He rolled by her feet, and began to hum drunkenly to himself, as if that would somehow make the nausea go away. "Rest easy, my darling, for something, something... hmm hmm, I'll wait for you at the edge of the water, just kiss me once... before... Oh shit." He clutched at her legs, sure he was about to vomit, and lay there until the feeling passed. He looked up at Colette, almost glowing in the moonlight, and wanted her to hit him, to pay him back for letting her get into this state.  _Please destroy me_ , he thought, before he passed out on the floor.

"Hey, Lloyd, I'm talking to you!" Zelos had apparently been chatting away. Lloyd hadn't noticed.

"What?"

"I said, did you get laid last night?"

Lloyd thought of Colette, her empty eyes, her motionless body. "No," he said.

"Aw, man, me neither. Total failure. I got so hammered I couldn't get it up,"

"Shut up, Zelos!" Sheena called from the front. "There are children present!"

"Yeah, like they notice!" Zelos called back. Their guide, a small girl who never spoke, walked so far ahead she probably couldn't hear a word they were saying. She probably didn't care, either. Genis had followed her closely, obviously infatuated, so he too wasn't paying much attention to the conversation behind him. "So, anyway," Zelos continued. "I paid two girls to go at it and just watched, then called it a night."

"You are just so goddamn—" Sheena started.

"So what?"

"So goddamn  _vile._ "

"Oh, Sheena, are you jealous?"

"No, I'm disgusted. I've never in my life met someone so debauched."

"I didn't take you for such a puritan, Sheena," Zelos laughed.

"I'm  _not!"_

"Well, maybe next time you can come out with us and see how un-puritanical you really are. Let the good times roll, and all. Just don't fall behind."

"I could drink you into the ground, Zelos."

Lloyd believed her—he himself certainly couldn't keep up. Maybe if Zelos adopted Sheena as a party mate, he would be spared all these nasty hangovers.  _Please, Sheena,_  he thought,  _go out with him. Just once, so he doesn't take me._

"Yeah? You wanna bet?" Zelos chuckled. "Next time, you're coming with me, and I'm gonna leave you in the dust."

"Deal," Sheena said.

_Oh, thank Martel_. Lloyd would be safe, for a while. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued forward. He kept to himself, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. After a few minutes, he was so absorbed in his step-counting that he bumped into Raine when they had all come to an abrupt halt. He looked up to find that they were at the edge of a shadowy forest, giant and eerily foreboding. All of them hesitated at the sight of the menacing woods except Presea, the guide, who walked right in. They had no choice but to follow her if they wanted to get to Ozette.

"Hey, Zelos," Lloyd said quietly, when they were under the cover of umbrageous branches.

"Yeah?"

"What happened last night, anyway? What are these bruises?"

"Ha! You little dope, you don't even remember! We fought. Again."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you swung at me, I kicked you into the dirt, you gave up and then threw up all over my new pants." Lloyd had his doubts regarding that narrative, since Zelos seemed to have a few good contusions himself. "Then we went our separate ways. I went off to find new trousers and wonderful ladies, and you had to find a doctor, probably."

Lloyd shrugged and left it there. He troubled himself with wondering why the hell he kept letting Zelos take him out on the town. The mornings after never justified the nights before, especially since Lloyd could not for the life of him even  _remember_ if he'd had fun or not. He just couldn't believe he'd let himself get sucked into a night of misadventures with that madman again—

"Look out!" Raine shouted, and Lloyd barely had enough time to draw his sword before what seemed to be a pair of legs flew from the trees. They swung at his face and he backed up, hangover-addled brain cranking into gear. Over the blur of rapidly kicking legs, Lloyd could see the body of a man, muscled, tall, quick, a streak of blue hair and white skin against the shadows of the trees. He raised his blade, pangs of red-hot pain shooting through his left arm, power through his right.

Everything slowed, everything blended into senselessness. He lost track of his companions, and saw nothing but the man before him. Zelos, who no doubt was drawing his knife, Raine and Genis, muttering their spells, Sheena with her cards… and Colette, even Colette, who seemed so helpless but wasn't, all disappeared from his vision.

A blinding, intoxicating sort of exhilaration took him over, consuming his mind, electrifying his muscles, and he hammered away at his assailant. Powered by that too-familiar darkness, he sliced through air, and air, and air again, blind to everything, until finally metal met flesh. Lloyd screamed, dragging the blade across the man's stomach, and swung back around for another blow. Again, Flamberge drew blood, and Lloyd slid to his left, raising the pommel and bludgeoning the man's head. He fell to the ground, unconscious, as Lloyd flicked blood from his sword. The whole affair must've taken less than a few seconds, since his companions had not even managed to reach him before he cut down his attacker. He stood over the incapacitated man and raised his sword, ready to strike the finishing blow.

"Whoa, hold up, Lloyd!" Zelos yelled. "How will we get any info outta him if he's dead?"

Lloyd looked at the man bleeding on the ground, and thought it would be a waste of time to not just kill him and be done with it. He banished the thought, trying to send sentiments like that back into his exsphere. He forced himself to sheathe his sword and clenched his fists, telling the anger to retreat back into the little rock.

"Who was that?" he asked. "A bandit?"

"Maybe…" Zelos bent over the man, examining his strong chin, blue hair, and what looked to be a prison uniform. "Do I know him… No way." He laughed a little. "Look at him, we don't even need to tie him up. He's already wearing handcuffs."

"What?" Lloyd asked. "Why?"

"Some sort of fetishist, probably," Zelos suggested.

"Zelos!" Sheena appeared behind him and struck the back of his head.

"Hey! Don't knock it till you try it, hunny."

Raine stepped up to the bandit and knelt beside him. "It might be too late. I don't know what I can do for him. He's bleeding out. Maybe if I can... no, I don't have the skill or equipment. Presea?"

The girl looked at Raine but didn't offer any words.

"Is there a physician in Ozette?"

She nodded.

"Then he might have a chance." Raine lay her hands across his chest and went to work for a few minutes. When she was finished, she stood up and looked at Lloyd. "You really hurt him, you know," she said, as if this was new information to him.

Lloyd, still partially intoxicated with the power from his exsphere, came to his own defense. "So what? You wanted me to just let him kill us? Should I apologize for defending myself?"

"No," Raine sighed. "You did what you could. Just... never mind."

When the last of the dark power crept back into the little stone, the anger that had overwhelmed him suddenly made way for guilt. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know I should've held back, but I… couldn't."

"Well, if we want to get him to a doctor, we'll need to carry him the rest of the way," Sheena said. "Zelos, come help me with him."

"Allow me." It was the first time Lloyd had heard their guide speak. She strode up to the unconscious man, followed closely by Genis.

"Presea, you can't do it by yourself," Genis said. "Let me help."

"Not necessary." Their assailant was a big man, but she hoisted him onto her tiny shoulders easily. She set off again, the man's feet dragging in the dirt behind her. Lloyd's jaw dropped, and he glanced to his companions. All seemed impressed, except Genis, who looked as if he was going to cry.

Presea managed to haul the man's unconscious body all the way to Ozette, where they left him to the care of the resident physician. It was partially because of his guilt, partially because they decided it was best to keep an eye on the bandit that Lloyd stayed overnight in the tiny clinic. He helped the doctor swathe the man in bandages after he'd been sewn up, but he still looked terrible. As dark crept over the dusty, tiny town, Lloyd cupped his chin and watched him sleep. The others had gone to the inn, but he stayed behind, playing warden.

There wasn't much to guard. The bandit never woke up, so Lloyd was stuck watching him do nothing for the entirety of the evening. The physician was in and out of the tiny clinic, gathering herbs and disinfectants in the hills around town, bringing food for both of them from his house down the dirt road. He sat beside Lloyd, watching the bandit sleep, sighing and snacking on the small dinner his wife had made.

"To be honest, I don't think he's going to make it."

Lloyd's heart sank. "Are you sure?"

"What, you're concerned about him? Gods, boy, he attacked you. Probably would've taken all your stuff, too."

"For some reason I have a feeling that's not the case."

The doctor chewed, momentarily speechless. "You have a kind heart, I reckon. Stupidly kind."

Lloyd wished he did, but he knew better than that. He knew his heart was anything but. He couldn't help but look at how selfish he'd been—to lead Colette to the Tower and to her death, to put aside the injustices of the world's mana system, to let his evil little exsphere have any say in his actions. He had started out bad and only gotten worse.

*

When Lloyd was nine, his father told him he was going to school in Palmacosta. But there was still an expansive mountain range between them and the city, so Kratos decided they might as well make some money while they were traveling.

"Why can't we go the easy way?" Lloyd had asked, not looking forward to the hours of uphill climbing.

"Because there have been bandits about. We're accompanying a caravan, as protection. This job will pay for your school fees for the first year, at least."

"But dad…"

"Just listen to me, Lloyd. You stay near the caravan. Don't stray. I'll protect you. Just do what I tell you and you'll be fine."

In hindsight, Lloyd should've listened to his father. But on the mountainside, in the late afternoon light, he had seen that beautiful bird. It had seemed like an impossible sight—such a giant thing, shining so brilliantly, like a winged sun. He followed it as it flew above the caravan, and followed it when it flew away—stumbling between trees, trying to catch another glimpse of it. The bird drifted behind the snowcapped peaks, emerging and disappearing in streaks of golden light. For a while, Lloyd enjoyed their game of hide-and-seek. He crossed rivers, scrambled up scree, slid between rocks and under branches. By the time he realized he had gotten himself utterly lost, it was too dark to find his way back.

"Dad?" Lloyd didn't know why he called to the darkness around him. There was nobody nearby, nobody who could possibly hear him. There was nothing for miles but endless trees, and the sun was setting rapidly. How would he get back, how would he—

And then a hand was around him, dragging him upward.

"Look what I found!" It wasn't a friendly voice. Lloyd felt his feet leave the ground, and began to kick furiously. He struggled uselessly as he was hauled to a tree and shoved against it. A knife hovered at his throat, and a grinning face floated beside it, too close to his. The bandit had bloodshot eyes and stinking breath, and Lloyd tried to turn his head so he didn't have to see or smell him.

"Whatcha got there?" Another pair of thieves emerged from the shadows.

"Dinner!"

Lloyd began to cry, and the men laughed. "He looks so tender!"

Lloyd tried to struggle, and the man holding him cut his cheek. Sharp pain froze him in place, and the sinking realization of his own vulnerability came over him. All he could think of was that he didn't want to die without catching that magnificent bird. It was a stupid thought, he knew, but it was the first and only one that went through his mind.

"Oi, don't kill him yet," one of the men said.

"Think he can help us get into that little wagon?" another said.

"Maybe. Ask him. He might be traveling with them."

"We can see if they'll give us a few gald for him."

"Now, don't you two ruin my dinner!" The bandit with the knife lay it against Lloyd's opposite cheek and grinned almost toothlessly. "We're gonna eat your plump little cheeks first."

"But we'll let you go if you do us a little favor."

"Wh… what?" Lloyd whispered.

"You're gonna take us back to that caravan of yours."

"I… don't know… where it is," Lloyd sobbed.

"Pity," one thief said. "You think we should nibble on his eyes first?"

"Or maybe his lying tongue," the other suggested.

"I don't know!" Lloyd insisted.

"Well, that's too bad. I guess we're just gonna have to gut you like—"

Halfway through his threat, Lloyd saw a sword bury itself in one side of the thief's neck and emerge from the other. He stood there, shocked, silent. Only after the sword had been pulled from the man's throat and the body fell to the ground did he find that he could scream. And he did. Gods, he screamed.

It might've been quite the odd scene, looking back on it. Lloyd sat on his ass and wailed uselessly as his father singlehandedly took down three or four bandits in complete, deadly silence. He didn't remember much, but he did remember that by the time he had stopped crying, all three bandits were dead. He had looked up to see his bloodstained father, sword at the ready, face red with fury. He strode toward Lloyd, flicking blood from his sword, smelling of rage and violence.

Lloyd was certain his father was going to kill him for wandering off. But to his great surprise, his father didn't cut him down. He only sheathed his sword, bent and drew him into his arms. Lloyd froze, allowing himself to be carried back to the camp by his wordless father, sure that if he moved or talked it would be the end of him. For what seemed like hours, his father carried him, jaw clenched, and Lloyd knew that when they reached the caravan he was in for a beating like no other.

The caravan was set up by an alpine river, fires lit, the smell of dinner wafting from the flames. Instead of carrying him to the fire, his scowling father set him down at the edge of the water. Lloyd was still trembling when the cold drops splashed over his face. He gasped, tried to push his dad away, but was held firm. He submitted to the cold bath, shivering, as the freezing water washed all the blood from him. His father, after he was sure that his son was clean, started scrubbing the blood from his own arms.

Without a word, Lloyd's cheek was bandaged, his clothes changed, and he was tucked into bed with no dinner. He lay in wakeful silence for hours, listening to the voices around him, flinching at every noise. He heard the stern conversations between his father and the other members of the caravan, but he could not make out exactly what they said. They probably knew better than to question Kratos. They had hired him for things like this, after all. If he returned to the camp with blood on his hands, it was only likely he was doing his job.

Lloyd tossed and turned, tried to get comfortable, but he could not get to sleep. He could still feel the blood on his face, still see the look in the bandit's eyes the moment the Kratos' sword went through him. He relived that moment over and over, as the camp quieted down and darkness settled over it. Late in the evening, the tents were set up, the fires extinguished, and the whole caravan was asleep, but Lloyd was still awake, trembling.

In his nine-year-old brain, he was making calculations. He thought he'd come up with a brilliant, if discouraging, formula. He had seen a man die, and now he couldn't sleep. Therefore, for every death he saw, he would lose another night's rest. It seemed to make sense to him. In that case, he would have to stay awake for two more nights, to balance out the three bandits he'd seen go down. But his father… his father hadn't slept in years. Lloyd mustered the bravery to speak.

"Dad?" he barely whispered, and almost immediately his father was at his side, still reeking of violence. "Dad?" he said again.

"What?"

He forced himself to ask it. "How many people have you killed?"

He could almost hear the man deflate. Lloyd flinched, though he didn't know what he expected. He felt his father's hand softly stroke his hair. "Lloyd, that is an unkind question to ask."

But he needed to know. He plucked up the courage to look into his father's face, and saw not rage, but an unprecedented sadness. He stared until Kratos gave in.

"Too many, son."

"Is that why you never sleep?"

"Oh, Lloyd." His father gathered him up in his arms. "Can you not sleep?"

Lloyd shook his head and tried not to cry. His father held him silently for a moment, squeezing him a little too hard. "Do you want to see something? Get on my back."

Lloyd, perhaps more afraid to disobey than anything, scrambled up onto his father's back and held on tight.

"You're getting a little big for this."

"I know," Lloyd answered, embarrassed for some reason.

"Come on." His father began to climb up the hillside. "I know a place you'd like."

"What about the caravan?" Lloyd asked.

"We got all the thieves in the nearby vicinity. I don't hear any more." Lloyd wasn't sure if he wanted to be included in the "we" that killed those men. He didn't want to kill anyone. But he believed his dad when he said he didn't hear any more danger. That man's ears could hear a twig crack from miles away.

Lloyd sat silently on his father's strong back, sucking in the fresh night air. After about an hour of silent climbing, his dad set him down on the ground in front of a large clearing. At the center of the clearing stood the biggest tree Lloyd had ever seen.

"Whoa," was all he could say.

"It's called a Linkite tree."

"It's… dead." Lloyd was a little disappointed.

"A long time ago, when I came here last, it was still alive and well."

"How long ago was that?"

"Long before you were born."

"So, like… fifteen years? Twenty?"

To his surprise, his father laughed. "Yes, something like that."

"Dad, look!" Lloyd pointed to the sky. Kratos' eyes followed his extended finger, then he grabbed Lloyd's hand and dragged him farther up the hillside, where there was a better view. "What's that bird?" Lloyd asked.

"It's Aska. Lloyd, get on my shoulders," Kratos lifted Lloyd up higher to get a better view, and they watched the sky until the giant bird disappeared into the distance, taking its brilliant light with it. "Look at him go." Kratos' voice was quiet, filled with an emotion Lloyd could not interpret.

"Aska," he repeated. His wide grin turned into a yawn when an overpowering exhaustion took him. He rubbed his eyes, and Kratos let him slip from his shoulders into his strong arms. Together, they made their way back down the hillside, back toward the caravan. Before they even left the field of the Linkite Tree, Lloyd fell fast asleep in his father's arms.

*

By the morning, the bandit had succumbed to his wounds. Since the man in question was undoubtedly some sort of criminal, the physician's report excluded any mention of Lloyd or his party's involvement in the act. "It's not like there's much law enforcement out here in the boonies anyway," Zelos had said. Apparently the town had a drunkard who fancied himself a sheriff, but the whole place was small enough to self-govern.

So it was a little bit of a surprise for Ozette to learn that their local bandit was some big-shot from Meltokio. "Yeah, I finally remember where I know him from," Zelos said as the doctor lay a sheet over the body. "I met him at some party ages ago. He is—was—the big kahuna over at Lezarano."

A strong twinge of anger banished Lloyd's lingering guilt. "The exsphere company?"

"That's the one."

"Then I should've done him the favor of at least finishing him off fast." His left hand fidgeted. He knew it was a little different here in this world, but he still had a feeling that in either world, exsphere manufacture was a nasty business. Tethe'alla had to get its exspheres from the same place as Sylvarant—human bodies.

"Whoa, calm yourself there, Lloyd," Zelos said, glancing nervously at his twitching arm. "He's not running the thing anymore. He was put away for murder, actually. Death row inmate."

"So he went from mass murder to regular murder. What's your point?"

"My point is, and you should listen in, doctor, because this is important. My point is he's the property of Meltokio. We could bury him here and forget about it, but this particular fellow was likely to be close to the top of the roster at the Colosseum. Especially because of his celebrity. Which means that he's worth thousands of gald in viewing fees. Alive, sadly, not dead, so it wouldn't surprise me to find out that the papal knights are out looking for him. When they find that he's gone and kicked the bucket, they're likely to try and get their money's worth."

"S... so what do we do?" the doctor stuttered. His clinic was only a one-room hut, so he didn't have much to give should the pope's men come to collect. Nobody in the little town did.

Zelos leaned in, almost smirking. "Well, you dispose of his body, discreetly, and tell no one. Not that we were here, not that we were attacked, nothing. Deny everything if questioned." Zelos patted the physician on the shoulder and smiled. "You'll be okay."

When they left the medical hut, Lloyd turned to Zelos. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Oh, Lloyd, you dumb little nugget. Can't you see we're being followed?"

"What? By who?"

Zelos shrugged. "I have no idea. Papal knights, perhaps. I don't know if they were after our little bandit friend, but they could be after us, as well. They've been following us for a long time. I figured we might've been able to lose them in the forest, but they'll arrive here soon. And then they'll ask around about us."

Lloyd thought of Yggdrasill, of Yuan. Neither option was good, and they seemed the likeliest culprits. "Should we tell the others?"

"In time," Zelos smiled. "For now we just need to keep the townspeople quiet. I think we did a good job of that."

"What about Presea?" Lloyd asked.

"She's probably already in Meltokio by now. She doesn't seem like the talking type, anyway." Zelos shrugged. "But… you know, you can't keep everything perfectly under control."

Lloyd sighed, briefly glancing at his exsphere. "No. No you can't."


	17. Night

The forest was still, windless, filled with a dim yellow glow. At midday the creatures of Gaoracchia crept back into their holes, when the sunlight was brightest, and there they would stay until afternoon. This was the easiest, and quietest, time to travel through the forest, so traffic was at its maximum. Maximum traffic was usually one girl, silent and deliberate, hauling her sacred log down the shadowy road to Meltokio. The only sound was the crunch of her footsteps and the earthy noise of the log dragging behind her.

When Botta spied her from the shadows, he decided that she was too oblivious to be any trouble. He squinted to make out the exsphere on her chest, and upon closer inspection, he recognized that particular design. One of Rodyle's nastier ones, damn him. He didn't have time to pity the girl, nor the resources to help her; he only knew that she would answer his questions and think nothing of it. She was as close to mindless as it got, so she was probably the safest bet he had. He signaled to his two guards to stay hidden, and stepped out onto the road in front of her.

She stopped and stared, expressionless. She didn't reach for her weapon, she didn't ask him to move, she only stood there, waiting for him to say or do something. He knew he would be in for some trouble if she pegged him a threat, given her particular design of exsphere. She didn't look like she could swing the axe she carried, but Botta knew better.

"Girl," Botta said softly. "Who have you seen come through these woods in the past few days?"

She blinked at him with empty eyes. "Few? Please specify."

"Four. Four days."

"Four days ago, I saw two men come through. I do not know them. Three days ago, I saw no one. Two days ago, a woman alone passed through. I do not know where she went. One day ago, a party of six requested that I guide them to Ozette."

"Those people. Did you leave them there?"

"Yes."

"Thank you." Botta turned to go, confident that he knew which direction they were headed. They must be going to beg for dwarfish assistance, what with the Sylvaranti Chosen as she was. He raised a hand to signal to his subordinates, but the girl wasn't done yet.

"Earlier this morning another woman came through, alone. She wore armor."

Botta turned stiffly, breaking out in a slight sweat. "Was she elven? Half-elven?"

"I do not know."

"Did she talk to you?"

"Yes."

Botta waited, then realized he'd have to prod her to get her to speak. "What did she ask you?"

"The same question you did."

Botta swore, running through the options in his head. He could risk it, risk running into her to keep Cruxis' paws off the Chosen, but that would mean that he would reveal that the Renegades knew more than they let on. If anyone saw him here, Cruxis might figure out that he had an agent in the Chosen's party, whom they would then capture and interrogate. They might find out too much. Gods knew the Renegades' only advantage was the element of surprise. They weren't heavily equipped, not particularly well-organized, and all members were idealists in their own unique ways. Not the sorts that made good soldiers. Botta ran through plans, weighing the risks and benefits. He would have to be especially cautious in the next few days. Everything depended on it.

"May I go?" the girl asked, and Botta realized she had been waiting there while he buried himself in his thoughts.

"Oh, yes. You may go. Thank you."

She walked off, silent, and made her way down the path into the shadowy distance. Botta returned to his guards, leaned on a broad tree trunk, and pulled out his communicator.

"Sir?" one of them asked.

"There are some new developments. Keep watch while I make my report." He bent over the tiny device, trying to type with his big fingers. He hated the screens—he found them inconvenient and time-consuming, but Yuan insisted every one of his soldiers carry one.

_Party in Ozette_ , he wrote. _Pronyma suspected nearby. Will proceed with caution. Orders?_

He waited a few minutes for a reply. When it came, he lifted the device and squinted to read it.  _Please don't do anything that will kill you._

He had to smile. Only Yuan would issue an order prefaced with "please." Botta wondered how Yuan even got mixed up in this whole mess. That man didn't belong out here, in the pitiless crossfire. He belonged somewhere quiet, peaceful, where wisdom and not violence could be cultivated. Where he could put away his blade and bring out his spectacles. But Yuan had done his best with what the world had given him, even if he was an incorrigible idealist and hopeless romantic. Maybe that's why Botta believed in him. Maybe that's why Botta stayed when he could have left. So he could make the world the best possible place for people like Yuan, when people like him, the fighters, the commanders, the brutally fearless, were obsolete.

_Yes sir,_  he wrote back.

He looked at his guards. "We may have Desian company in the near future. Keep on your toes. This could get ugly."

"Aye, sir," one answered, smiling a little.

He relaxed knowing he had loyal and competent backup. He knew these Renegade scouts lived for this sort of thing, and he knew that they would follow him into whatever quagmire he dove into. Whether or not they would follow him back out was the real question.

*

"No. No, I can't." The dwarf Altessa stood at the window, staring out into the dusty sun. He turned, and displayed his mangled hands. "I swore I'd never make anything again. Do these hands look like they can help you?"

It had been a long story. Altessa had at first resisted. He had resisted letting them in, he had resisted their questions, he had resisted telling them his tale. But when he saw Colette, blank-faced and hovering just outside his door, he relented. Reluctantly, he'd led them inside, where he showed them his tools, his anvils, his collection of failed projects, and his broken, crooked-fingered hands.

He said he had used to work for Cruxis. He did nothing but carve key crests, gems and Cruxis Crystals, day in, day out. He stayed in his workshop and cut, hammered, drilled away—it was good, dwarfish work. They paid him well, and he expanded his skills under their employment. His beard grew long, his house prosperous. But over time, Cruxis' requests became more and more unreasonable—they demanded he expand his work into the experimental, the dangerous. Slowly, he began to realize the true nature of his work. When the guilt became too much, Altessa hammered his own hands and fled, taking his servant Tabatha along, and retreated into the shadows of the forest.

"I've ruined so many lives, hurt so many people," the dwarf said. "Men, women. Children, even. I've done things I never wish to speak of. Things I will never do again." Of course he was not lacking in contrition, but Lloyd knew contrition alone was next to useless. The dwarf had destroyed the hands that hurt, but also the hands that could've helped.

"If one of you were knowledgeable in the dwarfish arts then I could instruct you," Altessa said. "But seeing as none of you are, you're going to have to find another dwarf. The only other one I've heard of lives in Sylvarant. He might be able to help you." Altessa hung his head. "You may stay the night here. Tabatha will assist you with anything you need. But I expect you to be gone by the morning." With that, he retreated into his dusty workshop.

So they were stuck lounging around the dwarf's old oak table, twiddling their thumbs.

"One of the refugees from the Asgard human ranch mentioned a dwarf in Iselia who could make key crests for them," Lloyd said.

"That would be Dirk," Genis said. "He lives a few miles beyond the human ranch. He sometimes does metalwork for the town."

"I wonder, though, if he's skilled enough to make a key crest for Colette," Raine said, cupping her chin.

"In any case, there's no use staying here," Zelos said. "You heard that old codger. You saw his hands. He's not gonna help us anytime soon."

"So we've got to get back to Sylvarant, at least," Sheena said. "Oh boy. And I thought I'd be done jumping between the two worlds."

"No kidding," Lloyd sighed.

"Well, if we can repair the rheiards, then we could get back," the summoner said. "But we have a few problems. Firstly, we'd have to either crawl back to the Renegades and beg for fuel, or we'd have to power them with something… else."

"Something else?" Raine asked.

Sheena's face darkened. "Uh… well…"

"Out with it."

"Volt. He's a summon spirit. He could power them."

"Volt it is, then," Lloyd said.

"But there's another problem," Sheena continued. "The only accessible portal from here to Sylvarant is right in the Renegades' territory."

"It seems they've monopolized the route between worlds," Raine muttered. "At least, the easiest one. But there are others." She stared at the center of the table like there was something magnificent going on there.

The rest of the table curiously looked at one another in silence, waiting for her to continue, until Genis spoke up. "What are you thinking, sis?"

"Well… all of it will be for naught if we don't get Volt's power. Otherwise, we'd have to go back to the Renegades, and who knows what they would do with the Chosen, at least in her current state."

"I guess we don't have that much of a choice," Lloyd sighed. He glanced at Colette. She stood in almost contented silence, lovely face blank. Someone had forgotten to brush her hair that morning, and it lay tangled over her shoulders.

"My hometown is on the way," Sheena said. "We can stop there if we need to."

"You're gonna take us to Mizuho?" Zelos asked.

"I said, if we  _need_ to. This isn't a holiday, you know."

Zelos kicked his legs up onto the table. "Babe, every day is a holiday for me."

*

That night, after the others had gone to bed and Colette was comfortably staring at the wall, Lloyd looked up to see Raine standing over him. "If you don't mind," she started, "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Ask away," Lloyd said. He was unsure what she wanted exactly, until she hauled a leather bag onto the table and started to dig through it.

"I gathered some equipment from a pharmacy in Meltokio. You wouldn't believe how advanced medicine is over here." She pulled out several needles and syringes, and to Lloyd's relief, lay them aside. "They've developed cures for diseases that haven't even been discovered yet in Sylvarant. Gods, if I could just—" She stopped herself, sighed, and continued digging. She produced a leather-bound notebook, a pair of gloves, tweezers, a scalpel, bandages, and a varied selection of other nasty-looking metallic tools. Lloyd gulped, but offered her the hand with the malign little stone. She examined it closely, turning it over, rubbing his skin, even sniffing it once before jotting it all down in her notebook.

"Please answer these questions honestly," she said.

"Uh. Okay."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah."

"How often?"

"Um, I guess… a lot." She gave him a look that told him to be a little more specific. "Well, when I fight, or when I'm scared, it hurts the most. It burns, almost. It feels like it's sending, I don't know, lightning or something through me. Sometimes when I wake up from a bad dream, it's throbbing. Or, that night in Meltokio, when Genis woke me up… that was the worst of it, I think. Since I got the key crest it's been feeling much better."

Raine took his hand in hers and prodded the tender skin around his exsphere. "How about the surrounding area? Does it hurt?"

"Ouch! Yeah."

"Apparently. How about here? Here? Here?" As she poked his skin farther and farther from the stone, the pain receded. He sat there for what seemed like hours, responding to her prods—sometimes the same ones over and over.

After a while, Raine snapped on her plastic gloves and Lloyd gulped. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a sample."

"What?" Lloyd said, but before he could pull away she was already leaning over him, scraping some skin off the top of his hand with what seemed to be a medical-grade cheese grater. "Ow!"

"Sorry, Lloyd. But this is for the sake of inquiry." She lifted the grater and examined it. "You may go. I'll need to take a closer look at this."

"Uh. Thanks?" Lloyd rubbed his hand. It was a little scraped up, but he wasn't bleeding. Overall it was a much more pleasant experience than his examinations at the ranch. But then again, pretty much any experience was better than anything he'd gone through in that hell. He stood up and stretched his legs, yawning. He could tell the night was getting cooler by the breeze that drifted through the small window.

"I think I'm gonna walk for a bit," Lloyd said. He thought it might clear his head, or distract him from the mild throbbing in his left hand.

"Don't wander too far."

"I won't, prof."

"I'm not a professor."

He closed Altessa's round door behind him and strode off into the night, breathing in the cool air, the scent of juniper, the dusty smell of the dry evening. He thought about how long he had to enjoy sensations like this. Maybe he should avoid getting too attached to worldly senses, since he would be leaving them behind soon. Or maybe he should take pleasure in them now, while he still could. Gods, he was so confused. He had never died before, so he wasn't sure how to do it properly.

_Don't think about it,_  he told himself. _Just walk._  So he did, trying to lose himself in the chilly night. He had only wandered for a few minutes when he heard voices echo between the shadowy trees.

"You'd better clear out. There's someone else following us and I don't want this turning into a snafu."

"I could get rid of them for you."

Lloyd strained his neck to hear. One voice clearly belonged to Zelos, but the other, he couldn't recognize. It sounded like a woman's. Lloyd wondered if the Chosen had convinced one of the village women to meet him out here. Lloyd figured he should probably turn back, unless he wanted to see something he really didn't want to see.

"No, darling, don't. Discretion is best, especially in these sorts of... trysts. You should go. Leave the rest to me. I'll talk to you later." With the crunching of dry leaves underfoot, the pair must've parted, leaving the forest in peaceful silence.

Well, that romantic endeavor was shorter than Lloyd expected. Or maybe he had mercifully missed the traumatizing bits. He still wasn't fond of the idea of running into Zelos as he pulled his pants back on, so he turned to go. If he could sneak quietly enough through the brush, he could get back to Altessa's without the Chosen discovering him. Then, at least, he wouldn't have to explain why he was trying to eavesdrop on Zelos' amorous pursuits.

He was about halfway back to the house, and just beginning to think he had lost Zelos, when the Chosen pounced on him. "Llo-o-o-oyd! What are you doing out at this late hour?"

"Uh, nothing. Just a walk."

"You didn't happen to run into anything unusual, did you?"

"You mean like you out here womanizing in the dark? Nope."

Zelos seemed suddenly nervous. "Uh. What did you see?"

"Nothing. You should probably be quieter about sweet-talking the local girls."

"Haha, oh. Of course. Wouldn't want anyone to find out I'm a ladies' man, now would we?"

Lloyd smiled. "Your secret's safe with me."

"I can rest easy now." After a moment, Zelos sighed. "Why are you out here alone, though?"

"I dunno. Just felt like walking."

"You're not feeling guilty about killing that guy, are you?" Lloyd stayed silent, looking at the ground in front of him. "What's the matter, you haven't killed people before?"

"Yeah. A few."

"If it helps, he was put away for a pretty heinous crime. Murdering his girlfriend, apparently for no reason. From what I heard, it was totally out of the blue. He was some top-drawer president, and she was, I dunno, some sorta servant girl. Dream come true, you know? It was the kinda love that comes straight from those crappy two-gald romance novels. Everything was great, and then he just snapped. Boom. Strangled her dead. No warning. So it's better that there's not a guy like that in the world anymore."

_Better off without a guy like that,_  Lloyd said in his head. Maybe it was true. Maybe not. He couldn't help thinking of his father, cutting his mother down. Maybe he had snapped, as Zelos put it. Maybe he had not done it at all. But everywhere Lloyd went, it seemed this particular motif and its variations were following him. He didn't even care if they were lies or truth at this point. He just wanted to stop hearing about these horrific cases of intimate murder.

"I just don't know," Lloyd mumbled as they approached the dim light of Altessa's house. Zelos opened the door for him and ushered him inside.

"I'm gonna make some coffee if there is any. You want some?"

"No thanks." Lloyd left Zelos to raid the kitchen and made his way to the back room, where Colette sat motionless on the bed. Toiletries were scattered around her: a dry cloth, a pair of tweezers, a hairbrush, pins. Usually it was Raine's job to keep Colette clean, to give her sponge baths and brush her hair, to examine her daily for any injuries she might've acquired but couldn't tell them about. But right now, Raine was nowhere in sight, so Lloyd sat beside Colette on the bed and picked up the brush.

"How was your day?" he asked her, running the bristles through her golden hair. He tugged at some tangles and knots, trying his best not to hurt her. He didn't know if she could feel pain or not, but he knew she couldn't express it either way. "My day was... fine." He wondered if he just kept talking to her, kept asking her questions, she might eventually just turn around and answer. So he spoke to her softly, brushing her hair, getting into the rhythm of the strokes. "I hope I'm doing this right," he said. "I don't have enough hair to need to brush, really. Maybe I should ask Zelos to do this." He paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. "You know, my hair really only just grew back to its normal length. When I first got to the ranch, they shaved it all off, but after that, they didn't seem to care if it grew back. Mostly, prisoners cut each other's hair, if we needed to. The head-shaving was probably, I dunno, some protocol thing. Maybe it was just for delousing. I had lice once, when I was a kid. The whole school got it. Even Genis, but don't tell him I told you."

He brushed her hair until it shone, and couldn't help reaching out to touch it. As he ran his fingers through it, he spied something round and greenish on her neck, like a tiny beetle. He lifted her hair to brush it away, but when he touched it, he realized that it was firmly attached to her skin. He squinted, leaning in closer, running his finger across it. It was small, hard, and seemed somehow to be a part of her. He briefly thought he might try to tug it off, but he didn't know if that would hurt her. He also didn't know if she would attack him for it. He figured he'd better get Raine.

He replaced the strand of yellow hair and stood, turning to see the half-elf already in the doorway. "What are you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh. Nothing. I just... brushed her hair. She needed it. But there's something strange on her neck. Like a tick, or something, but green. And hard. It's totally weird."

Raine said nothing. She only stood in the doorway and crossed her arms.

Lloyd squinted at her. "You knew about this, didn't you?"

She nodded. "It's only been there for about a day or so. I'm still trying to figure out what it is. If we can keep it under control, it should be fine. But I don't want everyone to panic. I have... I have a theory. It resembles a disease I've read about, but I can't be sure. It's probably nothing serious, just a skin infection. Either way, it's the least of her health worries right now."

Lloyd shrugged. "I guess so."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Lloyd. There are plenty of facilities here in Tethe'alla that could easily handle it." She sat down next to him, folding her hands. "It's amazing, really. Things that kill us over in Sylvarant are mere nuisances here. Easily preventable, with all the vaccines they have. Gods, I wish I could've studied medicine here. Did you know that they have a machine that can both diagnose and treat chronic..."

Lloyd had stopped listening. He stared at Colette, at her empty eyes and expressionless face. He wondered if she was in pain, if she was tired, hungry, scared, alone, and just couldn't express it. He tried his best to read the emotion behind her eyes, but she was just as impenetrable as his father. Perhaps it was because of their shared disease, but there was something terribly cold in her soulless stare that reminded Lloyd, just a little, of Kratos.


	18. Disappointment

When they passed through Ozette on their way back into the woods, Genis looked nervously around, as if waiting for something. He tried to make it seem like he wasn't searching high and low for Presea, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Give up, kid," Zelos said as they neared the edge of town. "She's long gone. Back to the capital."

"You don't know that," Genis replied, frowning.

This whole situation seemed to amuse Sheena and Zelos to no end. "It's  _adorable_ ," the summoner said. "He can't help himself."

"And he barely even knows her," Zelos sighed.

"Look, he's in so much love, it's amazing." She bent to pat the boy's head, and Genis slapped her hand away.

"Don't settle down with just one chick yet, kid," Zelos put in. "You're too young. Go out and taste-test. You know, try before you buy."

"Shut  _up_ , you guys!" Genis hollered, steadily turning a bright shade of red. "Lloyd, help me out over here."

Lloyd only shrugged. It had always been easy to rile Genis up, and there wasn't much Lloyd could do for him. He wasn't about to beat up Sheena and Zelos the way he used to beat up Genis' schoolyard bullies—and not just because the Chosen and the summoner would put up more than a decent fight. He only trudged along silently with Colette at his side, leading her by the hand and talking quietly to her. She followed complaisantly, silently, wearing a face Lloyd could barely make himself look at.

Sometime in the mid-afternoon, shortly after they left the forest, a small, shadowy town came into view. It was nestled in the crest of a green valley, walled and protected, overshadowed by huge trees. It didn't exactly look welcoming. But Sheena assured them it was best if they went inside so she could inquire more easily about the summon spirit. The people of Mizuho might be willing to guide them there, she said, though perhaps not as confidently as Lloyd would've liked.

"Okay, listen," Sheena said when they arrived at its gates. "They don't usually allow strangers in here, so you guys wait outside while I go explain the situation." She called up the wall in a language Lloyd didn't understand, and two helmeted heads appeared at the top. They replied, waved their arms, and the gate slowly opened. Sheena glanced behind her, gave them a smile, then disappeared into the town.

They waited outside for what seemed like hours. Genis amused himself with his kendama, trying new spells and tricks out on a rock that sat helplessly nearby. Raine produced a massive tome from her pack and began to read it. Zelos was trying to strike up a flirty conversation with an unresponsive Colette, who only stared into the distance.

"What are you reading?" Lloyd asked Raine, leaning over her shoulder. He found the book was in a tongue he couldn't understand, but the script looked somehow familiar. "Hey, what language is that?" he asked.

"Oh, this is a hybrid dialect from around the time of the Kharlan War. It was mostly spoken by humans, but it seems that some half-elves were fluent in it as well."

"Are you fluent in it?" Lloyd asked.

"I'm learning, but I can read well enough."

Lloyd wondered if she would be able to decipher the old books that his father had hidden at their rendezvous point. Maybe after they got Colette all fixed up, he could drag Raine up that mountain and have her translate what his dad had been up to this whole time. He supposed she wouldn't mind; she was always hungry for new books, and there were a few ancient artifacts hidden in that chest she'd probably love to get her hands on.

Right before the sun touched the peaks of the distant hills, Sheena returned. She wore a solemn face, and for a moment Lloyd thought she had failed to convince the others to let them inside, but she motioned for them to follow. She led them through the gate into a quiet, strange village, cleaved by a clear stream. The houses squatted low to the ground, plain and square, and to Lloyd they looked to be covered in paper. A few passing villagers, dressed in long robes with wide bands across their waists, stopped to stare at them.

Sheena led them into a house, slid open the paper door, made them take off their shoes, and sat them around the lowest table Lloyd had ever seen. "We're staying here tonight," Sheena said expressionlessly. "Tomorrow, we're sailing for Volt's tower."

She slid into a corner, and Genis took off to explore. Raine nestled with a book, and Lloyd tried to find a good spot for Colette. It was odd, having her so silent, so still. It was like finding the best place to put a lamp or hang a painting—was she best by the window, or in the corner? Did she match the draperies?

By the time Colette was settled, Lloyd's stomach started to growl. Before he could even ask for something to eat, a silent woman appeared at their door and brought them rice, soup, meat, and some sort of strange-smelling alcohol.

"This glass is  _tiny_ ," Zelos complained, downing it immediately. "I'm going to need some more. I'm definitely going to need some more."

Apparently he had underestimated the potency of the sake, since he drank himself into a stupor by nine. When he passed out on the table, Sheena had to drag him into a corner and throw a few pillows on him. The woman herself disappeared shortly afterward, saying it was best if they all woke up bright and early to get to Volt's tower. She stared at her feet for a few seconds before sliding the door closed behind her.

With Raine retreated into the next room, Zelos out like a broken light, and Colette standing motionless, staring at the wall (the closes thing she ever approximated to sleep), Lloyd and Genis curled on the floor. Genis began to snore a few minutes after his head hit the pillow, but Lloyd stayed awake, hot, uncomfortable, unable to find the right position. He kicked off his blankets and rolled to his side, staring at Colette. Minutes passed and he didn't take his eyes off her, though he didn't know why he looked at her for so long. It wasn't like she was likely to do anything interesting.

He heard a sound, a faint crunching noise, and sat up. Colette stayed where she was, clearly sensing no danger, but Lloyd used the rustling as an excuse to get up and go for a midnight creep. He wasn't getting much sleeping done anyway, so he figured he might as well. He tiptoed across the room, patting Colette's shoulder on the way, opened the sliding door, and stepped out into the fresh night.

"Don't worry, Sheena, I'm sure nothing will happen this time." The voice was faint but familiar.

"I appreciate it, but I've already failed once."

"I'll be here for you this time." Lloyd recognized Corinne's voice, and lowered himself to the ground, trying to sneak toward them. Outlined in moonlight, he saw Sheena and Corinne sitting at the edge of the creek, watching the night bugs flit.

"You can come out, Lloyd," Sheena said without turning around.

As far as he knew, he hadn't made any noise. But not much got past Sheena's senses—she was a little like Kratos in that regard.

"Are you all right?" he asked, as Corinne jumped in Sheena's lap to make room for him.

"Yeah. I'm just a little worried."

"About Volt?"

Sheena nodded.

"Why?"

"Well… because… this isn't the first time I've tried to make a pact with him."

"Oh yeah? Maybe that's good," Lloyd said. "You've got practice."

"No, I mean… the last time I tried, I  _failed._ I couldn't understand him. He spoke… some sort of ancient language. I tried my best, I really did. I tried talking to him. I think I must've offended him, because he went on a rampage. He killed everyone that was with me."

"Sheena…"

"That was a quarter of the town. They were so excited when they found out I could summon. My grandfather was so eager to see me succeed, he came too. He wanted so badly to watch a pact-making. Maybe it was the pressure, I don't know. I don't know what made it happen. I was just a kid. Maybe I wasn't ready to handle something like that."

She hung her head and Lloyd said nothing. He just lay a hand on her shoulder.

"It's a miracle they let me back in here," Sheena muttered. "And now they're going to take me to make another pact. Half the town hates me, and the other half tried to forget me. So it's insane that they would even help me." She hugged her knees to her chest.

"Hey, Sheena," Lloyd started, a little unsure of where he was going. "Look, If anything happens, I'll take out Volt myself."

She laughed. "Thanks, Lloyd. I'm glad to have you for help. You too, Corinne." She patted the little fox. "We've come a long way."

"Have we?" Lloyd asked.

"Yeah, I mean, since we were hired to take out Colette. Man, I have never met two people who were worse at their jobs than we are."

Lloyd stared at the water for a moment. "I guess we did what we thought was right."

"Thought..." Sheena muttered, before turning to look at Lloyd's left exsphere. "And we paid the price for it. You so more than me." Lloyd didn't know what to say to that. He covered his exsphere almost self-consciously as Sheena continued, "How long do you have? Do you know?"

Lloyd shook his head.

"Well, if anything should happen in the near future, to either of us…" she leaned toward him. For a moment he wondered if she might move in for a kiss, but she just wrapped her arms around him, laying her chin on his shoulder. "Just know I'm happy I had you as a comrade."

Lloyd sighed, almost with relief, and squeezed her back. "You too, Sheena. I don't think I've ever had a friend like you, you know."

"Really?" she asked, pulling away as Corrine wiggled in her lap. "How so?"

"Well, I've never met someone so talented who was so goddamn clumsy."

She smacked his arm, a little too hard. "What about Colette? She could give me a run for my money."

Lloyd instinctively glanced back to the house, and spied her eerie shadow against the paper. "Maybe not right now."

"Maybe not right now," Sheena said. "It's weird… but I miss her."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Nothing like trying to kill someone that makes you get to know them."

"Hah, tell me about it."

"It doesn't help that she's so sweet, and honest. Not to mention cute."

"You're starting to sound like you've got a crush on her."

"Maybe I  _do,_  lover-boy," she laughed. "So when she recovers, you'd better tell her how you feel before I swoop in and snatch her from you."

Lloyd rolled his eyes, but his heart jumped a little in his chest. Sheena grinned broadly and stood. "You should get some sleep, Lloyd. I suppose I should as well."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. 'Night, Sheena."

"'Night."

When Lloyd returned to the room, he found Genis awake, watching Colette, who in turn watched the wall like it would get up and run off any minute.

"What are you still doing up?" he asked.

"I had a bad dream and just couldn't get back to sleep," Genis answered. "I think… I think that having Colette near me scares me a little bit."

"Huh? Why?"

"Well… I don't really know. I think I feel responsible for her being like this, you know? Maybe you don't understand."

"Yeah. I do, actually." Lloyd sat down beside him.

"I know she would never hurt us, but I can't help feeling… well, you know what the others say about her."

"They might be right," Lloyd admitted. "But so far she seems to know we aren't a threat. I think we should probably just treat her with kindness and she'll come back to us." Lloyd knew he was lying; he didn't know what would make the Chosen come back, but hearing his own voice sound so confident was reassuring. Probably for the both of them. "I'm just as responsible for the Regeneration as you are, even if I joined in a little late. I live in Sylvarant, I helped get Colette to the Tower."

Genis stared at Lloyd for a moment. "You know, you're pretty amazing."

The unabashed compliment caught Lloyd completely off guard. "Shut up, Genis," he said instinctively.

"No, I really mean it. You've got a way for caring for people, even people you don't know. I mean, that's what started our friendship. You defended me from the older boys before you even knew me."

"Genis…" Lloyd bit his lip, unsure if he should say it or not. "I have to be honest with you. At first I only wanted to come on the Regeneration journey because I thought it might help me find my way back to my dad. I thought getting to the Tower would bring me back to him. I didn't really know what I was doing, and I'm not sure I cared. At least, not at first… but now…"

"That's my  _point_ , Lloyd," Genis said, seemingly unsurprised at the confession. "You were willing to take on the burden of saving the  _entire world_  just to save one person. Not many people would take that responsibility."

"You did," Lloyd said.

"I wasn't supposed to," Genis answered. "When the mercenary the church hired didn't show up, it was just Raine and Colette. So I volunteered to go with them. Raine almost didn't let me, but since there was no one else, she gave in. I'll be honest… I tried to be brave, but I was really just afraid of her leaving me."

"Leaving?"

"I didn't know what I'd do without her. I was scared out of my wits. I've never been able to do anything on my own, not without Raine. And after you lost your dad, you made it all the way across Tethe'alla on your own, and even survived the ranch… you kept on going, even if you didn't know what you were doing, or even if it was right or wrong… I could never do that. I could never be brave enough."

Lloyd wasn't sure if Genis was giving him a compliment or a criticism. Often when it came to him and his sister, the two were coupled in some way. "Well… you know, I do have a habit of running away from my problems. I was always trying to escape my dad. It's weird that I'd be out looking for him now."

Genis lay back down and folded his hands behind his head. "Yeah. I remember you complaining about him a lot. And I guess you did try to escape a few times. From school, I mean. You're lucky you had me to cover for you."

"Yeah. I guess I was." Lloyd paused, looking at the ground for a moment. "I've always been lucky to have you."

"I know. Get some sleep, Lloyd."

"You too, you dork."

*

Near the end of Lloyd's fifth year attending the Palmacosta Academy for Boys, he decided he was done. He had just been removed from classes for "taking disciplinary measures into his own hands," and as a consequence, was promptly on the receiving end of the school's own disciplinary measures. All because he had the gall to do something right. Besides, the other boy didn't get in trouble for all the months of teasing Genis, and here Lloyd got himself punished for daring to swing a single punch. Well, he was over it.

The school had said they had contacted his father, but Lloyd knew that he moved around so much it'd be impossible to actually find him. No one knew where his dad went during the school year. So he figured Kratos wouldn't know he had gone missing until weeks after he'd made his escape. That would give him a good head start, at least.

The only other person he told of his plans was Genis. He tried to convince him to come along, but Genis insisted on staying. That was his choice, and Lloyd couldn't change it. Genis belonged in school, anyway. Not like Lloyd, whose academic record suggested he was more fit for labor than sums.

He sauntered down the steps of the Academy and wandered toward the harbor. He carried a bag with only the barest essentials, since he would need to travel light. He brought with him four hundred gald, a pocket knife, a few extra clothes, and all the courage he could muster.

He sauntered toward the docks, trying to look like he wasn't up to anything. He was pretty sure he absolutely  _did_  look like he was up to something, so he hurried on, planning to hide himself as soon as possible.

But Genis wouldn't let him escape that easily, "Lloyd!" He knew he didn't have time to sink into the crowd, to run away. He turned slowly to see his only friend following him, frowning.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting out of here," Lloyd said. "What does it look like?"

"Don't do that, Lloyd. I'm sure the prefects and schoolmasters will listen to reason if I vouch for you."

"I'm gonna get expelled anyway," Lloyd said. "You know the rules. I'm screwed, Genis."

"I'm sure they'll change their minds when I tell them what really happened. You don't start fights, you finish them. You're an asset, actually. You know, to the peace."

"Good luck of convincing them of that."

Genis sighed. "Look. I'll tell them what you did for me. I'll tell them about the months of bullying, the racist comments. I'll tell them about how you came to the defense of the elf kid. So stay, will you? I'm sure they'll let you."

Lloyd sighed. "That guy won't bother you again, will he?"

Genis shrugged. "I figured you taught him a lesson. He's scared of me now. Scared of both of us. I'll be okay."

"Good," Lloyd said, and turned to go.

"Wait!" Genis called, but there wasn't anything he could say to convince Lloyd to stay.

Lloyd turned to look at him. "You sure you'll be okay? You don't need me anymore? I have things I want to do, Genis."

"I know. Sorry. It's just… thank you, Lloyd. Thank you for everything. I know you've gotten more than one black eye for my sake."

"No problem, Genis," Lloyd smiled. "They're just jealous because you're some sort of prodigy."

"Uh. Yeah. Well…" Genis looked at the ground. "Goodbye, Lloyd. I'll miss you, I really will." Without warning he wrapped his arms around Lloyd and squeezed.

"Don't get sentimental on me," Lloyd laughed, patting his shoulder. "I'll be back soon. With lots of stories. Just don't tell the schoolmasters."

"I won't. Jeez, you're turning me into some sort of problem child. Wait until my sister finds out I'm the hooligan that helped you escape."

Lloyd chuckled. "You can always come with me."

"Nah, Lloyd. You know I belong here. School's the only thing I'm good at."

"And school's the thing I'm worst at, so I guess we're doing what's best for us. See ya, Genis."

"See you, Lloyd." Genis turned away, back toward the school, shoulders drooping. Lloyd sighed, hoping that he had not hurt the kid too much. They both had to admit that either way, Lloyd was probably finished at the Academy. He just hoped that Genis could make more friends after he was gone.

Lloyd suspected that someone might've seen them conversing, so when the opportunity came, he hid himself in the nearest dingy bar. He looked around for a familiar face, and saw one.

"Oi, little boy, what are you here for?" A scarred but friendly man raised a glass to him and beckoned him over.

"He's here to get a drink, it's already past noon," another said, laughing.

One of the sailors, the one with the nasty scar across his lip, Lloyd knew a little, the other, a skinny, swarthy little man, not at all. He sat himself opposite them in the dusty lamplight.

"When are you shoving off?" he asked. "I'm wanna come along."

The two sailors looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Well, I'll be damned," the skinny one said. "It wants to be a barnacle on your backside."

"Look, kid," scar-lip said. "You're a good lad, runnin' all sorts of errands for us, but… well… you never set foot on a ship, have you?"

Lloyd nodded. "A few times."

"Come on," the second one said. "Let him on. We haven't had a pretty cabin boy since Aifread buggered off with those buncha marauders." The man smiled at Lloyd. "And you know what we do with pretty cabin boys." He made an obscene gesture and Lloyd gulped.

"Oh piss off," the first one said. "He's just messin' with you, kid. But now, why would you wanna run off with us? We ain't gonna pay you well."

Lloyd shook his head. "I don't care. I just need to get outta this place."

Scar-lip smiled, showing off his missing teeth. "Well, ain't he got the illness."

"Yup," the other said. "Look at him. Green with wanderlust."

"Well, look here, kid. We set sail in the evening, when the uh… contraband officers get off duty. Just stick around here until then, and we can see what we can do for you."

So Lloyd spent the afternoon in the dusty safety of the bar, where he was sure no schoolmaster would come looking for him. In the past few months, he had been skipping class to come down here—he told himself it was because he liked the lively atmosphere, but something deeper inside him like to imagine what his father would say if he saw him learning to gamble, drink and swear like a true Palmacostan seaman.

He had made a few friends, mostly older sailors who, in exchange for a pint of beer or a lesson on proper card playing, would get him to deliver a paper-covered package to this or that warehouse with the utmost secrecy. Lloyd didn't know why his nascent delivery business had to be so clandestine, but he hadn't been caught yet. He figured it was his school uniform—no one would suspect a boy from such a high-class establishment to get mixed up in the wrong kind of business.

By the end of the afternoon, all his months of favors had paid off. Scar-lip and his swarthy friend returned after a while and motioned for him to follow them. He smiled, grabbed his things and they led him across the harbor to an old but sturdy-looking ship.

He wasn't able to relax until he was on the boat, feeling the creaking wood rock beneath his feet. He smiled as he thought of the stories he would tell Genis when he got back; stories of adventure, excitement, maybe even a little saucy romance. He paced around the deck, trying to make himself useful, just eager to get this old tub unmoored and on its way _. I'm so close_ , he thought.  _So close to freedom._

Then he heard footsteps, slow and deliberate, creaking their way up the ramp and onto the deck. Lloyd went cold, and hid behind a barrel, peeking over only to confirm his suspicions of the carrier of that unmistakable gait. Standing on deck, wearing his most serious frown, was his father.

How in Martel's name did he find him? Wait, what if he wasn't even looking for him? What if he didn't even know Lloyd was here, and he was just… what would he be doing on a ship, anyway? Lloyd tried to still his heart, slow his breathing, and stay hidden.

"Hey, boy. What are you doin'?" the skinny, swarthy man leaned over the top of the barrel, spitting his consonants at him. Gods, he couldn't be louder.

"Shh!" Lloyd hissed. "Don't turn around. That's my father."

Of course the man immediately turned and briefly examined Kratos. "Oi, he's your dad? You're someone's precious baby bunting?"

"Piss off," Lloyd growled, trying to shoo the man away, but he only hovered over him, an evil grin plastered over his face.

"Is he rich? Bet he is, sending you to a fancy school like that." The man again turned and looked his father over. "Well, here, follow me quick, you'll be hidden good down here." He grabbed Lloyd's shirtsleeve and dragged him down a creaking set of stairs into the belly of the ship. "Now, shut your mouth and stay here, and we'll send him on his way." He patted Lloyd on the head, flashed him a grin, and ascended into the light, closing the barred trapdoor behind him. Lloyd sat in the corner, not sure if he'd been tricked, but at least his father hadn't found him yet. He waited in the dark for what seemed like hours, pricking his ears up at any sign that they may be shoving off.

Then his father's voice came wafting in from above. "Show me he's safe, or I'll burn your ship to cinders."

He heard someone laugh. "You're such a caring man, it's touching, really."

The trapdoor creaked open and Lloyd stood up. He squinted at the tall, familiar shadow waiting up there for him, and he deflated. He had been so close…

"Come on up, kid," someone called. "We ain't waiting all day."

Lloyd sighed. He knew he couldn't stay down there forever, so he trudged up onto the deck, defeated. He looked at his father, his disappointed frown, his narrowed eyes, and knew he was in for it. Kratos simply grabbed his wrist and dragged him off the ship, into the crowded harbor. Lloyd glanced behind him to see all the sailors grinning at him, no doubt trying to hold in laughter.

When Lloyd wasn't quite out of earshot, he heard someone yell, "Good try, kid! Come back when daddy's not around!" A burst of derisive laughter followed.

Lloyd turned red and bit his lip, watching his only means of escape slowly slip from his fingers. All those months of errands, tenuous friendships with iffy drifters, all his effort to work his way into the ranks of globetrotters, all for nothing.

Kratos dragged him all the way through Palmacosta. Lloyd thought he would drop him off back at school, leaving him again in the care of the inflexible schoolmasters, but Kratos marched right past it and toward the city gate.  _He doesn't know what happened,_  Lloyd thought.  _Of course he doesn't know. The school only sent him a letter yesterday._  Lloyd was a bit relieved, but he wasn't looking forward to the reprimand he would get when news of his possible expulsion reached Kratos. For now, he would be quiet about it. His father was already mad enough, he didn't need to give him more kindling for his flames.

A little while later, when they had left Palmacosta, his father built a fire on the beach while Lloyd watched the sea. Over the water, nearby but growing ever more distant, he saw the outline of the ship on which he had nearly escaped. It was close enough that he swore he could still hear the sailors laughing uproariously at his expense. _There goes my ride_ , he thought. _And my dignity._

"We were going to stay at an inn tonight," Kratos said, stacking a log on the fire. "But I had to pay the captain everything I had to get you back."

Lloyd stared at the swaying ship on the misty horizon. "I thought I was finally going to do something I wanted, for a change. I honestly thought they would let me come with them. What a joke."

Kratos sighed. "It's the way it goes. You were of more value as a ransom than a deckhand. That's how people are, Lloyd, that's what they do. They use you until you're no good to them anymore. Then they toss you."

Lloyd looked away from the ship and up to his father. "What are  _you_  using me for, then?"

Kratos didn't answer. He sat down beside Lloyd and pulled an ivory pipe from his bag. Lloyd watched him pinch a bit of tobacco and stuff it into the bowl.

"How did you find me, anyway?" Lloyd couldn't help but ask.

"You're my son. I'll always be able to find you."

Lloyd deflated, thankful that he only got a stern word. "For a moment back there I thought you were going to beat me senseless," he dared himself to say.

"I really should've. Martel knows you deserve it. I can do it now, if you wish."

Lloyd shook his head and groaned. "No thanks." He looked out to the ship again, thinking of the freedom that slipped through his fingers, thinking of the sailors that pawned him off at the slightest glint of gold. He narrowed his eyes and muttered quietly, "Bastards."

As if triggered by his breathy curse, the ship burst into orange flames. Lloyd sprang to his feet and ran to the waterside, watching the mast slowly creak into the ocean, followed by most of the hull.

He turned to see his father sitting and peacefully smoking his pipe. "Dad! Did you do that?" Kratos nodded. "What the  _hell_ , dad!" He looked back to the ship to see men jump into the water and begin to paddle back to the harbor.

"They'll live," his father said. "They'll just be out of work for a while."

Lloyd dragged himself back to his father's side, admitting reluctantly that it was at least a little bit satisfying to see all those sailors paddle like dogs back to the shore. Then he banished the thought from his head. What was he thinking? Even if they had sold him back to his dad, they didn't deserve this. He was sure they would be fine, but something unsettling gnawed at him. "How… how did you do that?" he asked his father.

Kratos lowered his pipe. "Have you heard of a suspended incendiary spell?"

Lloyd shook his head.

"Don't they teach you magic at that school of yours?"

"I... kinda got kicked out of that class when they found out Genis was doing all my homework for me."

"Why was he doing your homework for you?"

"Well, some boys from my year were giving him a hard time. So I've been fending them off for him. He offered to do my homework in return, so I took him up on it."

"Humph. That's awfully mercenary of you."

Lloyd scrunched his nose. "That's an odd thing to hear from an actual mercenary."

Kratos stared into the distance for a few minutes, watching the smoke rise from the ship's wreckage. "So. My only son tries to run off with a bunch of pirates. What were you thinking? Did you think it would make you more of a man?"

"No. It's just…"

"It's just that piracy is a strange occupation for a boy that gets seasick so easily."

Lloyd shrugged. He wasn't sure what to tell him.

"I never had the opportunity to go to a school like that. Don't waste it."

"Where did you go to school?"

"I didn't."

"Then how do you know so much about everything?"

His father only sucked in deep and breathed smoke into the sky. "Would you like to learn how to blow smoke rings?"

Lloyd smiled, just slightly. "Okay."

"Here." Kratos handed him the pipe and he took it. Lloyd was pretty sure this was some sort of rite of passage, and his heart skipped a beat as he raised it to his mouth.

"First, you have to hold your tongue like this. No, not like that, like  _this_ …"


	19. Dirk

"Sheena." Lloyd cornered her on the deck of the boat, unsure what he could say to her. Part of him wanted to congratulate her on her pact-making, compliment her on how amazing it was that she could subdue and command an ancient and powerful spirit like Volt, but he knew she wasn't in the mood for a celebration. "Hey, I'm really sorry about Corinne."

The sun set despondently, almost purplish, behind Volt's tower as the little boat sped away. "It's all right, Lloyd," Sheena said, staring out onto the water.

Lloyd knew it wasn't all right, but he also knew there was little he could say to make her feel better. There was nothing he could do to erase the memory of the little fox jumping in front of Sheena when the bolts came their way. He had never been very good at this sort of thing.

Lloyd had not known that one had to fight a spirit to subdue it. But in that echoey temple, when Volt's crackling voice rebounded from wall to wall in a language Lloyd could not understand, he had put a hand on his sword hilt anyway. It didn't take a genius to discern a threat, no matter in what language it was delivered.

Lloyd was unsurprised to learn that Raine was proficient in the obscure, ancient fey dialect the spirit spoke. But her translation was even less surprising—the thing wanted a fight, or a "test of power" as Raine generously translated. Whatever it was, whether it was a brawl, a test, or Volt simply attempting to massacre them all for shits and giggles, it left their hair frizzled and their limbs shocked with pain, and it had taken Corinne from Sheena. It was one of the only parts of the battle Lloyd remembered, though he reckoned that might've had something to do with the enormous waves of electrical power that had stormed through his brain repeatedly during the fight.

The whole affair had been short, brutal, and had ended with Sheena raising her hand to the sky, forcing the angry sphere of electric elemental power to bow to her, almost more out of bitterness than anything.

What stuck out in Lloyd's mind most, besides the death of the little creature, was what Undine had said when she appeared after the battle, watery and formless, to address them.

"So… you think it's true?" Lloyd asked Sheena, gripping the railing of the boat. "You know, what Undine said about the mana links between the worlds being severed?"

"I don't know why she'd lie."

"So what do you think we should do? Being the summoner, and all."

Sheena sighed. "I don't know, Lloyd. I really don't. I can't think right now. I'm sorry."

Lloyd thought he might have to wait for her to finish her grieving before they made any plans about the fate of the world.  _It's funny how personal issues can get in the way of heroism_ , he thought, somewhat guiltily. He knew that more than once he had put himself and his own feelings first. Lloyd touched her on the shoulder, briefly.

"Sheena. I'm… proud of you. And I'm sorry."

"I know. It's not your fault. You don't need to apologize for it." Lloyd sighed and left her to gaze at the early evening stars. On his way to the bridge, he passed Zelos. He stopped briefly and looked over his shoulder, hoping that the insensitive Chosen wouldn't ruin Sheena's fragile mood. Just to make sure nothing got out of hand, he hid himself, listening in.

"Yo, Sheena. Pull yourself together, candy-ass."

"Shut up, Zelos."

The Chosen sat down beside her. "Look. I know it's hard. But I'm sure Corinne wouldn't have wanted you to mope about it. She was more practical than that."

"He."

"What?"

"Corinne's a he."

"Really? With all those frills and bells, I doubt it. Well, whatever. It was a pet, it was probably neutered anyway."

Sheena raised her hand to her mouth and half laughed, half sobbed. "You know, you have an unbelievable skill to say the most inappropriate things at the worst possible times. No matter what, you know exactly what not to say, and then you say it."

"Yeah, but look. It worked. You've stopped crying."

"Only because now I'm  _pissed._ "

"Hey, hey, don't sell anger short. It's one of the stages of the process. I know all about grief."

"Yeah? I doubt it."

In a rare display of sincerity, Zelos lost his smile. "Don't tell anyone, but you know those rumors, about my mother?"

Sheena seemed a little reluctant to answer, but did. "Yeah. I've heard them. Not like I believe them, though."

"Well, they're all true. I was there." He lowered his voice. "Bloody half-breeds and their vendettas… Ah, well, it's in the past now, and I turned out all right, didn't I?"

Sheena sighed. "Zelos, I'm sorry, I really am."

"Can it, Sheena. That's not my point. My point is that we're all insects who get smashed sometime or another. All you need to know is that you haven't got it rough, no matter what you think. So you lost someone, so what? Everyone has. But you made a pact. You  _succeeded,_  and that's something special. I've never succeeded at shit. Sure, I can hold my liquor as good as the next guy, but really, what have I done? Nothing like forming a pact with a summon spirit."

Sheena stayed silent for a minute, sniffing. "You know, as absurd as you are, you're not a complete asswipe."

"You're a really horrid flatterer, you know," Zelos smiled. "You should really practice more. On me. When you're done moping around about your little pet."

"Oh, piss off, Zelos," Sheena said.

"Goodnight, hunny."

"I hope you die in your sleep."

"Me too. Until morning."

"Yeah. Until then."

*

Within the week they managed to get the rheiards up and running. Raine had been practically neck-deep in papers and books, trying to locate what she assured them was their ticket to the other side. When her lines and arrows drawn across planispheres and maps converged to a single time and place, she was positively giddy. She practically shook with excitement as they loaded their rheiards and made their way across the Tethe'allan landscape.

Lloyd wasn't even sure what the Otherworldly Gate was. When they landed (without incident this time, thank Martel) in a sunbathed clearing and dismounted, Lloyd couldn't help but doubt the Professor's calculations. It just looked like a bunch of rocks to him.

"This is it. This is the gate." Raine examined the tall rocks, running her hands across the markings. "We need to wait here for another forty-eight hours, and then… it will open."

"How do you know so much about this crap?" Zelos crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't insult me, Zelos. I am an archeological scholar; it's my job to know about… this crap."

Zelos shrugged, not entirely convinced, but he set his things down next to the sleeping rheiards and began to unpack what seemed to be his exotic liquor collection.

Sheena, who had rarely spoken in the past few days—at least not until she was half a bottle deep—sat down with Zelos and began their almost-nightly imbibing ritual. As the sun crept toward the horizon, Lloyd made sure the bedrolls were set up, the rheiards properly disengaged, and Colette was standing comfortably in a silent, dull-eyed state. With everything taken care of, he figured he didn't have much else to do but see what particular libations Zelos had brought with him.

The Tethe'allan Chosen lounged in the grass next to Sheena, exchanging gossip about the aristocracy of Meltokio.

"Yeah, well I heard Princess Hilda actually has six toes on one foot," Sheena said.

"No way. Come to think of it, I haven't actually seen her feet. Which is weird, considering I've seen every other part of—oh, hey, Lloyd."

"Hey. You okay?"

"I'm great," Zelos said.

"Not you. Sheena."

"I'm fine, Lloyd. Really. Sit down with us and I'll show you just how well I'm coping."

"I'm just checking up," he said.

"Sure you are." Zelos reached back and pulled a little bottle from his collection. "Sit down and have one of these. You've been rubbing your hand lately."

Taken aback, Lloyd instinctively covered his hand. But as he sat, and Zelos practically forced the bottle into his hands, he knew he couldn't hide the exsphere's progress. "How did you know?" he asked.

"I've got a pair of sharp eyes on me," Zelos smiled. "Real sharp. Nothing gets past this guy."

"Except for subtlety, class, and most jokes," said Sheena.

"Except for those. You know I can only handle low-brow humor, hunny."

"What is this?" Lloyd asked, struggling with the cap and bringing the bottle to his lips.

"That, my friend, is pure, fresh, dwarfish beer. Snagged it from Altessa's place."

Sheena gave him a look.

" _What_? He said we were welcome to his food."

"It's… really good," Lloyd said. He normally didn't go for beer, he preferred the sweeter things when he preferred any drink at all, but he had to admit this had a comforting earthiness to it. He supposed it might've been a sign he was getting older.

"So, as I was saying about Hilda," Zelos continued. "Oh, Lloyd, you don't know her, but she's the hottie that runs this place. Her father is  _supposed_ to, being the king of Tethe'alla and all, but we know she's got him wrapped around her little finger. I think I'm supposed to marry her."

"You  _think_?" Lloyd asked.

"It's an on-and-off thing. Maybe the engagement's been annulled after that incident with the hot peppers, but for all I know it could be back on."

"Remind me if you actually spent any time in prison for that stunt," Sheena said.

"Not a second. I'm the Chosen, they can't throw me in prison."

Lloyd shut his mouth and drank his beer, not bothering to ask for any of the sordid details. He just sat with them for the evening, listening to their raunchy and amusing stories to distract himself, until Raine called him over.

Lloyd joined the Sage siblings between two massive pillars, almost tripping over Colette, who, as usual, stood in the middle of the camp like a mindless obstruction.

"They look like they're having fun over there," Genis said, eyeing Zelos burst into uproarious laughter.

"They're trying," Lloyd muttered. "Though I'm not sure if beer is the cure for sadness."

"Jeez, Lloyd, haven't you read any of the great poets? Their entire works are fueled by alcohol."

A hazy recollection of Kvar's book of poetry came to his mind. For some reason, he remembered the poems more clearly than anything else. "Um. I think I've read some. The uh, 'pastoral tradition.' You know, shepherds falling in love and stuff."

"Lloyd, I didn't know you liked poetry." Raine seemed quite pleased with this discovery.

"I don't, really." He wanted to drop the subject before more memories of Kvar came to the surface and he would have to wrestle with his exsphere again. The key crest had certainly helped, but whenever the Desian lord appeared in his mind, the little stone had a habit of waking up and giving him trouble. "So, how did you find out about this place?"

Raine glanced around one of the gargantuan pillars of stone, to make sure Sheena and Zelos were sufficiently distracted or sufficiently inebriated to not hear her. "My mother's diary. This is where she left us. This is where… she thought we had a better chance in Sylvarant."

"Considering the way they treat half-elves here, she was right," Lloyd said.

Raine looked down at her feet. "She... she'd been planning it for months. She included the gate's location, its description, and even its schedule."

"Schedule?"

"Yes. It has a precise astronomical schedule—the nearest heavenly bodies determine when it opens."

"Oh, yeah. I think I remember my dad mentioning something about a gate that depended on the stars. Everything has to align just right. Or something."

"They do have to align just right. No 'or something' about it." Raine fished her medical supplies from her bag with a thoughtful frown on her face. "For being stark raving mad, my mother was oddly particular about her diary entries. I just hope that her illness isn't congenital."

"It is," Genis smiled. "Obviously. Look at you."

Raine slapped him upside the head. "If I go insane, it's no one's fault but yours. Now get lost, little squirrel. I don't want you hovering over Lloyd while I examine him."

"Doctor-patient confidentiality, huh?" Genis asked. "Well, maybe I'll bother Zelos for a drink."

"Try your best, Genis. I doubt he'll waste one on you," Raine said, laying her tools out. When Genis was out of earshot, she prodded Lloyd's exsphere gently and muttered to herself. "How does it feel?" she asked.

"Uh. Bad."

"Yes, I figured that. It looks worse today than it has in a while."

"Yeah, it does."

"Do you know why?"

Lloyd thought of Kvar and poetry. "The pastoral tradition," he said.

"What? Lloyd. Honestly." She pinched his skin and he flinched. "Be serious. Take care of yourself. Have my sleeping tonics been working for you?"

"Yeah, they have."

"In what way?"

"Well, I've been having a lot less nightmares."

" _Fewer_  nightmares."

"Right. Fewer nightmares. But I'm still… uneasy. Like, not exactly uncomfortable, but every time I wake up there's a little twist in my gut. It used to be worse. It used to be that I'd wake up and ask myself if today would be the last one, but now… it's become easier since I have plenty of other things to focus on, I guess. Getting back to Sylvarant, taking care of Colette, finding this dwarf, not to mention my dad…"

"Yes. It's hard to focus on yourself when there are so many other things to distract you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but that's good. I don't  _want_  to think about this thing. Or how much time I have left. Or anything like that. The thoughts get bad at night, when I start… remembering stuff. You know, I start thinking about my childhood."

"Hm…" Raine stroked her chin. "I could make you a stronger dose, but it's easy to become dependent on it."

"I think I already am."

Raine sighed. "All right, Lloyd. I'll make you another batch. But don't take too much. Just enough to get you sleeping."

"Sure thing, professor." He stood up.

"And Lloyd." He turned and looked down at her. "I'm sorry I can't do more for you. Perhaps… perhaps if I had more time, and proper equipment…"

"Don't worry about it. You're doing what you can. That's enough."

It wasn't enough, and they both knew it. But there was nothing either of them could do or say to fix it. The world had taken its toll on him, and the world was so much more powerful than he was. He wondered if he had done something terribly wrong, violated some incomprehensible and unspoken rule of life, and this was his punishment. Considering the business his father had gotten himself mixed up in, with the angels and the Renegades and the Desians… well, maybe he had inherited some of that sin. It wouldn't surprise him to find out that was the way the world worked. Eery terrible thing that had happened to him was a result of his parents. His father's secrecy, his mother's blood—he would've passed under the Desians' radar if it weren't for them. He wouldn't have been caught up in this whole mess if it weren't for them.

But then, where would he be? A store clerk, a schoolboy, a boring little man with no ideas and no courage, stuck in city life with few friends and fewer aspirations? How would he have met Genis, and Raine, and Sheena, and even Zelos, with all his debauchery—if it hadn't been for the tides of misfortune that had washed over his life?

He navigated between the rocky pillars as the first stars appeared in the sky, looking for Colette. Despite the fact that she was a walking reminder of his mistakes, her presence made him feel more at ease. He didn't know why.

He found her at the edge of camp, and if he didn't know better, he would've thought she had gone there to watch the stars appear.

"You wanna sit down?" he asked her. She only stared into the sky, motionless. "Would you like a drink?" Still no response. "Can I bring you a menu?" Lloyd didn't expect an answer, but he thought that if he could ask her something absurd enough, she would come back to him, if only to double take.

He knew that Colette could hear him, but whether or not she was actually  _listening_  was the big question. Still, he spoke to her for hours at a time, walking her through his dreams, memories, fears. Talking made him feel better about everything. He didn't even tell Raine half the things he told Colette, and Raine was the one asking.

"I thought too much about Kvar today," he told the Sylvaranti Chosen. He paused for a while. "You know, I've been thinking about a lot of things. These dreams… Kvar isn't giving them to me, my dad isn't,  _I_  am. Sometimes I think they're a way for me to punish myself. For everything, you know. Failing you, failing dad, just... failing." He lay down next to her feet and watched the stars glint into existence on the horizon. "At least you didn't die. Well, not all the way. Only… only the important parts are gone." He sighed, and looked up at her. She only stared straight ahead, unmoving. "I ate a slug today," he said, hoping that would wake her up.

It didn't, so he just lay at her feet, watching the sky slowly turn around him, waiting for the heavenly bodies to align just right. "Ah, it's all right," he said more to himself than to Colette. "When we get back to Sylvarant and find this Dirk guy, everything'll turn around. Yeah, when the sky gets a little brighter, shit'll stop hitting the fan so often. Then, maybe you'll forgive all of us for what we did to you. Later… I mean… If I survive. If either of us do."

*

They clumsily landed the rheiards on the edge of a cornfield. Lloyd accidentally clipped a few stalks with the tip of his wing, but he figured whoever owned the field might forgive him.

He changed his mind when the farmer, arms waving, came screaming out of his rickety brown house. He flailed toward them, calling out, "No, no, no, no,  _no_! Get those Desian machines outta my field, now! Shit sakes, they'll come lookin' fer 'em and then  _bam_ , me and my family, off to the ranch! Take 'em away!"

"These aren't Desian machines," Raine told him calmly.

"I don't care, they look like it!"

"I can assure you they have absolutely nothing to do with Desians," Raine insisted.

"You didn't steal 'em, did you?" the farmer asked.

"No, of course not. I built them. No half-elves involved at all."

"Professor?" Lloyd asked, but Raine seemed to love playing the part of engineer. Before he could stop her, she was showing the farmer the different parts of the rheiards, explaining to him the physical principles of flight, the fluid dynamics of air and the energy conversion factors until he was confused into complete submission.

"Well, I don't really care how they work," he said. "But I know I don't want yer machines in my field."

"Not to worry," Raine smiled. "I'll pay you generously."

"Well…"

"How much do you want?"

"Uh… how much you got?"

Raine dug into her pockets. "Oh, about… sixteen thousand gald. And I'll sweeten the deal with this: in the future, when Sylvaranti flight has reached its golden age, your name will have a special place in the history books."

"You don't say…"

Raine forked over the sum—not much to any middle-class Tethe'allan, but a fortune to a poor Sylvaranti. "All we need is to store them in a safe place for a few days. You'll get the other half when we return—if they're safe."

"Well, uh. Um. I'll take care of 'em," he said numbly. "Just come back for 'em sometime soon."

Raine thanked the farmer again and they were on their way.

"Talk about bumpkin country," Zelos muttered. "Is everyone from Sylvarant an idiot?"

"Martel's love, are you ever  _not_  an asshole?" Sheena hissed. She raised an arm and bopped his ear, and he fell to the ground, clutching it and whining indistinctly. She stood over him to give him a good talking to about what Lloyd assumed were highly complicated class issues, as the others marched ahead.

"Jeez, Raine, I didn't know you knew everything about flight," Genis said.

"I don't. But our mother did. It's all there in her diary. She truly has some spectacular appendices regarding her research. Formulas, designs, you name it."

"She said she was one of the best engineers in Sybak," Lloyd put in.

"She  _must've_ been, the way she explains all of this. Honestly, I expected more of a diary. A personal narrative."

"Did you, though?" Lloyd raised an eyebrow.

Raine smiled. "Perhaps not. Maybe I'm more like her than I thought."

"I wanna read it!" Genis grasped for the book, and Raine shushed him.

"Quiet, Genis. It's a secret between you, me, and Lloyd, remember? But for now, you are going to use what you've learned in your differential calculus book to derive your own theoretical formulas for flight from first principles. It must include fluid dynamics, changes in gravity, air resistance, and an equation for fuel consumption."

"All right," Genis grinned at the challenge.

"And Lloyd. You are going to write me a five hundred-word essay about the advantages of flight. And make sure to spell 'flight' correctly."

"Do I have to?" Lloyd sighed.

"I want a rough draft by tomorrow." Raine flashed him her most charming, teacherly grin, and led them toward Iselia.

It was strange being back in Sylvarant after all this time. The air here felt different, almost thinner. Perhaps he was just imagining it—or maybe he had really become sensitive to the differences in the two worlds.

"Hey, Genis," he muttered. "Does the air smell different to you?"

"Yeah. It's a lot weaker."

"So… do you think we screwed up the Regeneration? If we succeeded, mana should be flowing back toward Sylvarant."

"Um…" Genis took a moment to sniff the air, and Lloyd could not help but think it would be just like him, botching everything with the best intentions. "No, it does smell a little fresher… I think. I don't know, Lloyd, it's been a while since I've been here. And I don't exactly remember smelling the air all the time, you know?"

"I guess not."

The rickety gates of Iselia rose around the bend, moss-covered and smelling of rot. The whole place had the scent of rain about it, fresh and sharp. Lloyd breathed it in, feeling, oddly, as if it were somehow familiar. "Do you remember this place?" he asked Colette, who didn't respond. "This is your hometown, right?"

"I'm of half a mind to leave her outside the gates," Raine said. "I can't face her father with her in this state."

"Yeah," Genis said. "What will we tell him?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. We'll just go into town and collect some supplies and then we'll be gone."

"I'll stay and watch sweet little Colette for you guys," Zelos said.

"And I'll stay to make sure he doesn't do anything funny," Sheena put in.

"I'll go with you, Genis," Lloyd offered. "I'm curious. I… think I might've visited this place a long time ago. Maybe with my dad. I want to look around."

The Sage siblings led him into the little town, and the vague feeling of familiarity only grew stronger. Lloyd couldn't remember if he'd actually visited the place before, or if he'd dreamt about it, or if it just looked like all of the other innumerable small towns in the Sylvaranti countryside. Maybe he had been building up an idea of Iselia from Genis and Colette, and finally discovering the hometown of his two friends felt like a homecoming for himself. The quaint houses, the long grass roofs drooping over the dirt streets, the old schoolhouse squatting in the corner of town—they were unremarkable, staples of every village. But then there was that recognizable smell, the fresh, green scent, that made him think he'd breathed this air before.

So, this was where Colette had been born. This was where she was raised, this is where she went to school, this is where she made her first steps, spoke her first words, maybe even had her first kiss. And Lloyd would make sure she didn't return here until she was well again.

"Well, this is my house," Genis said, indicating a humble, thatch-roofed home. "I guess I've known you for years, and I've never invited you over."

"Impolite of you," Raine said, unlocking the door. "Everything seems just as we left it. It is odd to be home."

"Yeah," Genis muttered. "I didn't think we'd return here until after the Regeneration."

"Yes, well, everyone else thinks that too. So if they ask about the journey, just tell them it's going well. Be vaguely optimistic." She disappeared into the doorway.

"Hear that, Lloyd?" Genis asked. "I've gotta go in and make sure she brings something edible. You know."

"I know," Lloyd said. So he stood outside the house, ready to wave away any villagers that might come to ask questions, as the siblings gathered supplies for the trek up the hillside. Raine had told Lloyd that the dwarf lived near the local human ranch, so they would have to give it a wide berth. It would be a little bit of a journey, but Lloyd was used to long hikes by now. He just enjoyed the brief rest, sat at the small pool by the porch and swirled his hands inside. The water was cool and soothing, especially on the flaky, swollen red skin around his left exsphere. The little rock seemed to be getting bigger by the day, despite his best efforts. Lloyd guessed its development was inexorable, even with a key crest on it. It had seen enough suffering to satiate its hunger; the fighting, pain and uncertainty only fueled its growth. Maybe if Lloyd settled here in Iselia and became an inconsequential farm boy, the little stone would cease to grow, and he would be able to live a long life. No, even if the exsphere sapped his life, he would continue his struggle. He had an obligation to Colette, and the two worlds… and his dad.

He took a moment to think about what he might do next. He supposed once Colette was better, he would have to go find Kratos. He might be able to track down Yuan, and ask about his father's whereabouts. Ask whether he was guilty of killing his mother, ask what he had done to piss off Cruxis enough that Yggdrasill himself came down to kidnap him. With a jolt of dismay, he realized it was almost time to say goodbye to the others. They had no business with Kratos, they had no reason or obligation to care. And when Colette got better, they might as well stay in Iselia with her, where it was safe. This was where they had loved ones, where they belonged. Lloyd would have to find out the truth, and find his father, alone.

"Lloyd, we're going." He lifted his head and saw Raine next to him, staring down at his immersed hands.

Before she could ask anything about his pain, Genis practically burst out the door after her. "I made sandwiches," he said proudly, "just in case we all get hungry. And here." He grabbed Lloyd's hands and wrapped them with strips of cloth. "If the Desians see your exspheres they might try something funny. We're gonna get pretty close to a ranch, so we wanna be careful."

Lloyd let Genis covered his hands and followed them out of town. A few villagers tried to delay them with questions and invitations for the Chosen to come and rest, but the siblings rejected them with perfect civility, insisting that they were in quite a bit of a hurry.

Outside Iselia, well out of the eyesight of the villagers, Colette waited in the motionless trees. Sheena and Zelos, to Lloyd's utter confusion, were half-naked, lying motionless in the grass. They had draped their shirts over their eyes to keep out the sunlight, or as part of a suicide pact—he couldn't really tell.

"What are you doing?" Lloyd asked.

Sheena removed her obi from her eyes and sat up. "We're seeing who can tan faster. You guys sure took your time."

"We were going to sit around and watch the grass grow," Zelos said, face still muffled under his jacket, "but we figured this would be far more exciting."

"Honestly…" Raine sighed.

"So, Raine, my cool beauty," Zelos said, taking his shirt off his face. "Who wins? Who has the deepest, most golden tan?"

Raine shook her head. "You both look like pasty sea creatures. Neither of you wins."

"I think Sheena probably managed to get a little brown," Genis said helpfully.

"Ha! I knew it," Sheena tapped Zelos on his pale arm.

"No fair, you were already darker to begin with," he complained, forking over what Lloyd could only discern was a fortune.

"Yeah, well, you knew that when you took me on," Sheena smiled, sliding the money into her bra.

"Are you quite finished?" Raine asked irritably. "If you haven't noticed, Colette isn't getting any better watching you fool around. And we have a long way to walk."

They planned their route to avoid the local human ranch, so they took the circuitous forest paths miles away from the main road. They didn't speak much on the journey—only a few necessary whispers, since Desian scouts were crawling over the hillside. Fortunately, their route was clear, but their caution had cost them the better part of a day. They reach the dwarf's house safely, but not until the sun was low in the sky.

Lloyd stopped in his tracks when he saw it. The strange, familiar feeling he had in Iselia retook him. The illogical recognition grew worse, more intense, and he racked his mind almost to pain trying to remember. He had to remember, remember  _something…_  He couldn't see straight, he put his hand to his forehead, wondering if he had been here before. He filed through his memories, early, late, good, bad, complex, simple, memories of sights, sounds, smells, just feelings, searching, searching, until—

"Lloyd, look out!" Genis yelled. Lloyd gasped at the sudden impact to his chest. He barely had time to take a breath before he fell back and a giant tongue plastered slobber all over his face.

"Noishe!" he laughed. "Good boy! How did you get here?"

"He arrived with some refugees," came the answer, heavily accented, gruff, but not unkind. Lloyd sat up, pushed Noishe off him, and looked toward the house. A bearded dwarf stood in the doorway, arms crossed. He took a step forward, onto the porch, but stopped. His mouth opened slightly, his eyes narrowed, and his hands dropped to his side.

"Is that… you?" he asked as Lloyd stood up, dusting himself off.

Lloyd looked the dwarf over, tilting his head. "Do I know you?"

"How do you know this animal?"

"Noishe? He's my dog."

"Where did you find him?"

"I didn't  _find_ him, he's my—"

"What's your name?"

"Lloyd. Why?" He flinched a little as the dwarf's face screwed up in some uninterpretable expression.

"Oh, dear gods, it  _is_  you. Dear holy gods above, I can't believe it." Before Lloyd had a chance to protest, or even raise his arms in defense, the dwarf came at him. The small, lean man wrapped him in his strong arms, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Lloyd, arms pinned to his sides, felt his feet lift from the ground. The dwarf's head only came up to his chest but his grip was inescapable. He looked over at his companions, who raised eyebrows or covered smiling mouths, but didn't offer to help him.

"Who…" he huffed, lungs crushed. "Who are you?"

The dwarf let him go, and he could breathe again. "Forgive me, Lloyd. You'd better come inside. Your friends can come too, if you want." Lloyd looked over his shoulder at them as the dwarf grabbed his arm and practically dragged him inside the house. The others followed, half amused, half bewildered. The dwarf stoked the fire, shoved his metalwork from the table and thrust the biggest mug of beer Lloyd had ever seen toward him.

"Let me see those," the dwarf commanded, pulling the protective cloth from Lloyd's hands. When he saw what was beneath, he covered his mouth. "So, they got you too. Just like they got her."

Lloyd looked down at his exspheres, brow furrowed. "Her?" he asked.

"Your mother. Oh gods, I can't believe after all these years. I mean, when I saw that creature I didn't know what to think."

When Lloyd spoke, he barely heard his own voice. This was all going so fast—he couldn't believe this was happening. "When… when you saw Noishe?"

"Aye. He's been here before, and so have you. So has your mother."

"I…" Lloyd gulped. It was overwhelming, the thought that perhaps after all this time, this rough, tiny man across from him might be able to give him some answers. "Tell me," he said weakly.

The dwarf looked distraught. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"All right, then. It's a long story, but I'll start at the beginning. You got your mug o' beer?" Lloyd nodded, pulling the brew close to him. "And you want your companions to leave?"

"No," he said. He didn't know if he would have to fall back on one of them or not. Or all of them. "They can stay."

"All right. Well, all you pour yourselves something, and I'll start from the beginning. You were a wee lad, Lloyd, probably too little to remember—oh, it must've been at least fifteen years ago. I was walking around the cliffs yonder, just minding my own business, as dwarfs do, when I found both of you. I can't remember what I was doing—searching the cliffside for gems, maybe, to make something—it doesn't matter. There was some sorta commotion nearby, but there were always noises like that coming from the ranch. I was surprised to find you and your mum lying at the base of the cliffs, both wailing like vengeful spirits. Didn't take me long to figure you'd fallen from the top. But your mum made sure she hit the ground first, and she must've broke a few things… she could barely move, so I wasn't gonna just leave her there. I wasn't excited to get mixed up in all this Desian business, I didn't ask for it, I didn't want it, but you two came crashing down on me—fate is a strange thing, innit? There's nothing I could do but listen to her plea. She told me you were Lloyd, she said to take you and hide you, and hide that exsphere you're carrying. I had to do it—I didn't know what else to do, so I decided to try my best to carry you both back here. Well, about that time I heard some sorta… scream from above, and Desians started to fall from the cliffs. I thought the world was going to end, there were so many bodies. Gods, I try not to think about what went on up there… I just needed to get us all away from that. You weren't conscious, or if you were, you didn't look it. So I grabbed you and your mum and dragged you as far away as I could. I tried to get away from the ranch, from the fighting, from everything. I thought it was the screaming man that must've pushed her off, must've cut her up—she was full of gashes, and not from the fall. Gods, that scream still keeps me up at night sometimes."

Lloyd began to shake. The possibility that his own father had struck his mother down became suddenly, and infuriatingly, real. He clenched his fists under the table but stayed silent, beer untouched.

"So," Dirk continued, "I managed to creep back here unnoticed, with you, the stone, and your mother. She… she didn't last long. I tried to do what I could for her, I really did. But I'm no healer, and she was cut up bad. If it had been just the fall, she might've made it, but she'd lost so much blood… I didn't know what to do…" Dirk paused, laying a hand over his anguished forehead. "Gods, I didn't know if the Desians would come looking for you, so I tried to hide you as best I could. You were in shock—you barely ate, you didn't sleep, I couldn't wrestle a word out of you. But I kept you close, with my axe ready, waiting for the day the Desians came for you. You were such a small, sweet lad, I couldn't bear the thought of those bastards getting their hands on you. But they weren't the ones that showed up when the time came. For the past couple of days I'd been hearing rumors from the people of Iselia that there was a madman on a rampage, wielding a sword of flame, accompanied by some sorta hideous monster. He burnt down every house and village he came across, looking for something but never finding it. Naturally I thought he was a Desian, and that he was looking for you. I was right about one thing.

"It was Noishe who sniffed you out. If it hadn't been for that creature, your dad never woulda found you. When he broke down my door I was the only thing standing between you and him. He said he wouldn't hurt me if I gave you back to him. Now, you can imagine how I felt. Here I had found a bairn with a dead mum, a monster for the family pet, and a dad who had burnt down half the countryside. I didn't know what sort of life you'd be going back to, but I knew it wasn't good. If the Desians were after your family, then I wasn't giving you back to him if I could help it. And he cut through me like butter. My axe never touched him, and all I could do was bleed in the corner while he picked you and your exsphere up and carried you right back out the door. Back into that world that killed your mum, that I knew would probably kill you too." The dwarf took a moment to sigh. "So, for years after, every once in a while I would say a prayer for you, and plead with the old gods, with Martel, with whoever would listen, to keep you safe. I wondered even after all that, if the little boy had managed to grow up in a safe and happy home. Now I know I never should've let your father take you back, but I couldn't stop him. I wasn't strong enough." He glanced at the malevolent stone on Lloyd's hand. "Now the same bastards who killed your mum are killing you."

Lloyd was silent for a few moments. "I… was my mother… did she…" Lloyd didn't seem to know where his question was going—he didn't have the strength to spit it out.

The dwarf gave him a compassionate look. "You'd better follow me," he said, and stood. The others stayed behind in awed silence as Dirk led him out the door and into the side yard.

And there she was—nothing more than a gravestone in a shady grove of trees. Lloyd walked up to the grave, slowly, as if in a dream. When he came to a stop, he lost control of his legs. He fell onto his knees, staring at it, but he couldn't read the epitaph. His vision blurred, he felt light-headed.

Here he was, with her, finally. After a lifetime of searching, here he was. For years, he developed his own theories of her whereabouts—first, when he was a small child, she was simply missing. She was waiting for him at home, wherever that was. Then, he knew she was dead, but not gone. She was in Tethe'alla, land of riches, paradise. Then he had gone there and back twice, and now, for the first time in his life, he knew for sure his mother was dead and gone completely. He gathered the dirt in his hands and watched it sift through his fingers. Here she was, in Sylvarant this whole time, feeding the ground, the grass, the trees. Lloyd's heart ached, his lungs emptied, he felt as if the contents of his chest had been drained out.

"I'll leave you," the dwarf said, and disappeared.

Lloyd stared at the grave until the sun set completely, and then he stared at it some more. The moon illuminated the stone, but he still couldn't bring himself to read it. Instead, he asked it a question.

"Mom, did he really do it?"

The stone was silent, lit by silver light.

"Did he?" Lloyd asked again. "I can't believe it. I can't goddamn believe it. Why in all the gods' names would he…" He gripped the dirt at his feet and lifted a fistful—but he couldn't for the life of him figure out where he should throw it. Kratos was nowhere nearby, and the only other culprit he could think of was himself. "That  _bastard_! That goddamn evil cowardly piece of  _shit!"_ He ended up tossing the dirt back onto the grave, hands shaking. "Did he? How  _could_ he?"

He buried his face in his dirty hands.

"But  _did_  he?"

The grave said nothing.

Lloyd suddenly realized that he was sitting out here, alone, yelling at a headstone. He ran his fingers down his face, smearing dirt into his stray tears.

"I know you can't answer that. I'm... sorry I asked."

The stone didn't reply.

Gods, he had to pull himself together. He couldn't sit here all night, asking questions to a grave. Here he was, crying over someone long dead, when he had an obligation to a girl who was still alive, if only barely. He wiped his eyes, closed them for a moment, and stood up.

"I'll go find out myself. I know… even if you're still around, watching, you can't exactly talk to me. But, I mean, if you can hear me, just know I miss you. I barely even knew you, and I miss you so much."

He brushed himself off, taking a deep breath.

"Mom, I'll get to the bottom of this. I swear. Then I'll see you. I'll see you sooner than you'd think." He left the stone in the moonlight and walked back to the house.

When he opened the door, an uproar of senses overwhelmed him. Around the little house echoed the sound of a hammer pounding, the smell of molten gold, the heat of flames. The others turned to him as he walked in, and he rubbed his eyes, pretending their redness was just the result of the blacksmithing nearby. All his friends wore looks of concern, but none interrogated him about his time outside.

"Dirk said he can build a key crest for Colette," Genis said.

"Aye," the dwarf replied, bringing a small hammer down on a thin strip of gold. "You aren't the first ones to come here looking for key crests. Refugees from the Asgard ranch were here, dozens of 'em. I've made more of these in the past few months than ever before."

"But this one is different," Lloyd told him. "It's for a Cruxis Crystal."

"Aye, I know. But the fundamental idea is the same." He brought the hammer down again. "I'll have to work for this poor girl all night, though."

"I'll help," Lloyd said.

"You sure?" the dwarf asked. "There isn't much a human can do."

"I'll do whatever I can."

"All right. Hmm… there are a few parts that don't require runes. First, I need you to weave this silver wire as mesh for a backing for the crystal. You have thin fingers, you'll be better at it than me." The dwarf stopped his work to show Lloyd what to do. "Now, you just take this wire, twist it around like this. And then you feed the other end through like this, and loop it around again…"

*

"…And then you poke the thread through the needle. Easy." Kratos sat before the fire, stitching up a hole in Lloyd's only pair of pants. Lloyd watched, bored, as his father tried to teach him how to repair his own clothing. He must've been about five, always muddy, always playing, and always tearing holes in his clothes. His eyes followed the needle in, out, in, out, and in again, as the rip slowly shrank.

"The hardest part is getting the knot at the right place," his father said.

"I thought the hardest part was threading the needle."

"That's the other hardest part." Kratos bit the thread and pulled, breaking it. "There. Don't go wrecking your clothes again."

Lloyd took the pants from him, looking them over. They looked like new. "Did mom used to do this?"

Kratos sighed. "She was never very good at this sort of thing."

"What was she good at?"

"Well…" his father stared into the fire. "She could always make me laugh. And she was the liveliest dancer I've ever met. I couldn't keep up with her."

"What else?" Lloyd asked, scooting closer.

"She was brave, and adventurous. She could speak several languages."

"And?"

"And… she could sing. She always sang. She would sing you to sleep every night. She could play cards like no other. And she was a good mother. She could… she was…"

"Dad?" Lloyd said. This was the first time his father had spoken about his mother at such length—he didn't want the conversation to end. But it had to, since when he looked up, he saw two streaks shine on his father's cheeks. Kratos was silent and dignified, as always, but still—Lloyd had always thought Kratos unbreakable. The spectacle almost frightened him, but he didn't struggle as Kratos lifted him into his lap. He just lay his head on his father's chest, and let the strong arms wrap around him. He could hear his father's heartbeat, agonizingly slow, but still comforting, and he closed his eyes. That was the only time he had ever seen his father cry.


	20. Back Again

Botta crouched in the dirt, well-hidden in the shadows of an old Iselian oak tree. His two best operatives lingered at his side, watching the forest with keen eyes as their commander typed furiously on his communicator.

_They sought help from a Sylvaranti dwarf. Success possible but not guaranteed._

Botta waited a few moments for the reply. He scanned the horizon for any movement, tapping his foot impatiently. Gods damn this stupid little tiny device—things would go so much easier if Yuan could just give up the gadgets for about five minutes and let Botta have free reign to do his dirty work for him.

 _Good_ , beeped the reply. _One step away from Regeneration. Leave them be. Any signs of Pronyma?_

_Too many. Sure it's her. 100%. Not sure if alone. Engage?_

_No. Not unless it's unavoidable. Does it look like she'll go after the Chosen?_

_Doesn't seem eager. Strange. Perfect time for her to attack._

_Keep an eye on them. I suspect if Pronyma is lurking but not acting, she either has something up her sleeve or a mole in the party. Not sure which is worse. Be cautious._

Of course Botta would be cautious. He hadn't survived so many years by being otherwise. Imprudent half-elves didn't live long in either world—doubly so for enemies of Cruxis. It was a lesson every Renegade learned within the first month or so. The first few weeks were when Botta lost the most recruits, but after that, they got wiser, more tenacious. Yuan was arguably the most tenacious of all—he'd been keeping up the act for hundreds of years, and still managed to keep himself in the close circles of his enemy.

Botta squinted at the little screen as he slowly typed. _Found the rheiards. Nearby to our location._ He punched in the coordinates.

_Good. Keep an eye on everything until I get there. Return to the base when I arrive._

_Not sure if good idea._

The screen blinked uncomfortably as it waited for a reply.

_Don't question my orders, Botta._

He sighed. Being the subordinate officer, he couldn't exactly stop Yuan from doing what he wanted. But he had the nagging suspicion that Pronyma knew he was here. For all he could tell, she was spying on him as much as he was spying on the Chosen. He couldn't describe it, but he had this uneasy feeling in his gut that something was about to go very wrong.

*

"It's finished," Lloyd said, more to himself than anyone. The morning light slipped in through the dusty windows like a thief, and Lloyd could barely keep his eyes open as he examined their work. Dirk clapped him on the back with sooty hands, and for half a second, he woke back up.

"You did pretty well," the dwarf said. "I think this should do the trick."

Zelos and Sheena yawned in the corner. They had slept through the racket (with the help of a few bottles of the strong stuff), and Genis and Raine had emerged from the upstairs room.

"Is it breakfast yet?" Zelos asked, stretching.

"No, you idiot, they finished the key crest," Sheena yawned.

Lloyd approached Colette, who, of course, hadn't slept all night. He turned the key crest over in his hand, examining it. It looked pretty good in his opinion, but he wasn't the right person to ask. As long as Dirk thought it would work, that was good enough for him. He smiled and reached out to Colette, laying a hand on her Cruxis Crystal. She didn't respond. He slipped the key crest on her and stepped back, not sure what to expect.

Nothing happened. Her eyes stared straight through him, dull and empty.

"Co… Colette?" he said. "Please wake up."

She didn't.

Lloyd squeezed her arms. "Please."

They all stared at her, waiting, but nothing happened.

"Well, we weren't sure if it would work to begin with…" was all Genis could say.

Lloyd sighed. "Then we'll just try again. We'll use different materials, we'll make it a different shape…"

"And what about you, Lloyd?" Dirk asked. "What are you going to do about that exsphere they put on you?"

Lloyd held up his hand to the dwarf. "I already have a key crest."

"Aye. An ugly, useless thing."

"Ouch," Zelos muttered. "I thought that one looked good."

"Yeah, well, your fashion taste is garbage," Sheena said, after which Zelos gave her a stern elbow to the ribs.

"Look, Lloyd," Dirk said. "We'll wait. Sometimes they take a while to take effect. In the meantime, I'll make you a key crest."

Lloyd nodded, too tired to argue or bargain. "Thank you."

"Stay here as long as you like. I don't have much room, but there's plenty of food and you're welcome to it."

"Well, we can't exactly return to the village with Colette as she is," Raine said. "So I'll stay and help with whatever you need."

"I can whip something up from whatever stores you've got," Genis said. "We'll stick around till Colette's better."

"All right," Lloyd yawned. "Thanks, guys." He sat against the wall, exhausted, and slid to the floor. Somewhere above him, in the rapidly blurring light and shadows, he heard Genis' voice.

"Wow, Lloyd, how much of this key crest was your work?"

"Not… much," Lloyd muttered.

"It's really good, though. I guess that's why you did well in your metalwork classes."

"Maybe…"

Lloyd couldn't keep his head upright. His eyes fluttered, his head fell, and each time he snapped himself back awake, he would only last a second or two before he sank again into half-sleep. His stomach rumbled at the smell of cooking eggs and toasted bread, but he couldn't keep himself upright any longer. With the thin shadows of morning activity dancing around him, he succumbed to gravity and fell asleep.

*

His dreams were soft, slow, full of dusty light. His father was not there, nor was his mother. Kvar, Yggdrasill, and Yuan were mercifully absent as well. There was only a muggy undertone of solitude, of stillness, against a yellow glow. The only things he saw in his sleep were confusing lengths of golden hair, swaying in and out of his vision, and a bare, greenish shoulder. Everything was disconnected, hazy, innocuous.

He awoke sometime in the afternoon, hungry as hell. He put a hand to his rumbling stomach and rubbed his eyes with the other. He groaned himself upright, and took a minute to remember where he was. He saw Genis at the stove, stirring some spices into an enormous stewpot.

"It'll be ready in a half an hour," Genis said, not taking his eyes from the soup.

"Thanks, Genis," Lloyd said. "What time is it?"

"Oh, probably about four. I dunno. Dirk doesn't have a clock. I guess dwarves don't really care much for time."

Lloyd yawned, stretched, creaked across the little house to the front door. He emerged into the hot air, kicked off his boots and seated himself on the porch. With a soft rustle, Noishe emerged from the underbrush and crept up to him, nuzzling his hand. Lloyd smiled and stroked his ears.

"I'm happy to see you too, Noishe." The animal seemed to be in a much better state than the last time they met. He looked well-fed, happy, lazy. "Has Dirk been overfeeding you?" Lloyd always knew Noishe had the potential to be a fat old couch potato, but nomadic life with Kratos prevented him from living up to his true sluggish potential. Maybe he would be happier with Dirk, watching the trees rustle and the sun make its way across the sky, with no responsibilities.

Lloyd had to admit it sounded like a nice life. Maybe when this was all done he'd get himself a plot in the middle of nowhere just like this one, with Noishe at his side, and raise a few animals or something. If he was still alive.

"Kvar would be proud," he muttered to himself. "It'd be pastoral as hell, Noishe." He grit his teeth and discarded his little fantasy. He couldn't live that life, at least not yet. There were so many things wrong with the world, he couldn't just run away and give up. As long as there were ranches, Chosens, Desians and mana imbalances, he'd still have work to do.

Dirk rounded the corner, a pile of wood in his arms. He dropped it next to the porch and sat down beside Lloyd, a broad smile on his dark face. "So," he said. "You're awake."

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right."

Lloyd looked at the back of his hands, at his exsphere, and his mother's. The right glowed a benevolent blue, filling his hand with a cool, soft, water-like feeling. The left seemed to swallow all light, barely reflecting a weak, bloodied red. The skin around it was swollen and veiny, and the affected area seemed to grow with every passing day.

"How much time to you think I have left?" Lloyd asked the dwarf.

"You'll have a lot more once I make a proper key crest for it."

Lloyd lowered his hands. He didn't want to look at them right now. He didn't really want to think too much about the stone that stole his mother's life, and the stone that was going to steal his.

"Hey, Dirk" Lloyd said. "Do you know what exspheres are made of?" He figured if anyone might know, it'd be a dwarf.

"Nae," Dirk admitted. "But they aren't just rocks. I've seen my fair share of people pass through here looking for key crests, and I know they're something more than that. They're… well, they seem almost alive. They  _look_ like gems, but they're not just deposits of energy. I know that."

"Then what are they?"

"I don't… I don't rightly know, Lloyd." Dirk cracked his knuckles and stared into the trees. "One man said they take the souls of the people they kill and preserve them. And that's where their power comes from."

Lloyd glanced down at his own. "Do you believe it?"

"There's lots of unbelievable things I've seen in my life." The dwarf paused for a few moments. "Some of the refugees who came here… it was too late to save them. It gave them comfort to know that their souls would stay preserved in the stone that killed them. And I'm not going to tell them otherwise. I can't judge them for believing something like that."

Lloyd supposed it was a little comforting to think his soul might outlive his body, even if it meant his soul could not outlive his exsphere. He couldn't bring himself to believe it, though. "I hope it's true. For their sakes, at least," he muttered.

Dirk sat in silence for a few moments, removing his gloves. "I've been meaning to ask you, lad. Where's your father now? Is he still alive?"

"I don't know. He went missing. I'm looking for him now."

"Gods, boy, why do you want to find him? Just look what he's put you through."

Lloyd sighed. It's not like he could've just run away from his dad whenever it got rough. Martel knew he tried. He could only imagine what it might've been like if he had escaped Kratos and made his way back here, to Dirk. He supposed his father would've tracked him down, found him, taken him back, just like he did when he was little. Lloyd thought it was cheerlessly poetic that after all these years he was the one chasing Kratos.

"Lloyd," Dirk started. "When you find him, give him a good hard punch for me. For all the harm he's done you."

Lloyd nodded. He wouldn't mind punishing his father, just a little bit, for going missing. He didn't want to think about what he would do to him if he found out for sure he had killed his mother. A big part of him wanted desperately to disbelieve Kvar, so for now, he would follow that part. It might be the only thing that would keep him from destroying his father once he found him.

"Lunch is ready!" Genis called from inside the house. The warm smell of spicy soup wafted from the window, and Lloyd suddenly remembered how hungry he was.

"Go on, eat," Dirk said. "I'll start your key crest."

Lloyd rested that day, ate his fill, and sat around. Dirk refused to let him help with his own key crest ("bad luck to make your own," the dwarf had said. "Besides, you've done enough work already"). Lloyd couldn't help wondering if he had messed up Colette's crest somehow, and that was the real reason Dirk refused to let him help make the second one. His heart sank at the thought, but he let the dwarf do his job, and instead occupied himself in other ways.

For most of the evening Lloyd sat across from his mother's grave, catching up. He told her about himself, his likes and dislikes and mistakes and successes. He told her about Colette and the Regeneration. He told her about school, about his travels, about his friends, about the ranch, Kvar, Yggdrasill. He told her about his father.

He took out Kratos' locket, twisted it around in his fingers for a moment, and set it gently on her grave. "You know, the worst part is that I never could remember what you looked like. If I didn't already know it was you in that picture, I wouldn't have recognized you. I can't remember anything. Not your face, your voice, your smell, anything. I'm sorry, I really am."

He hung his head. He watched a beetle crawl carefully through the thin grass by his knee. He thought about smashing it, then decided to let it be. Instead, he leaned down to examine it as it struggled to overcome a mound of dirt, legs wiggling uselessly. He sat there for what must've been a good half hour in silence, so enthralled with the insect's struggle that he didn't notice someone approach from behind.

When a hand gently pressed his shoulder, he froze. Something primal inside him told him that it was his mother's ghost, and that if he turned and looked, it would vanish into the air. Eyes locked on her grave, he slowly moved his hand to touch the fingers around his shoulder. They were real. He gulped, stood up and turned around.

Colette smiled at him, eyes glinting. He was taken aback for a moment to see her return to her old self, so different from the lifeless body he had grown accustomed to. She opened her arms, radiant and vivacious, and Lloyd fell into them. Her embrace was forgiving, natural, gentle. He squeezed her tight and let out something between a laugh and a cry of surprise.

"It… worked," he said ineffectually.

"Yeah," Colette said. "It was… pretty sudden. I wasn't there, and then… poof." Her giggle was like music.

"I'm sorry, Colette. I'm so sorry we did—"

She lay a finger to his lips. "You did nothing wrong."

"I…"

"Thank you for the key crest," she said.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say.

She waited a moment before replying, "Stop apologizing, you dork."

He laughed. "How are you doing?"

"I'm great, Lloyd. Thanks to you. And Dirk. If it weren't for you, I'd… well, I would be a lot worse off than I am now."

"Do you remember everything? From when you were… you know."

"Yes, everything. I saw everything, heard everything, but I couldn't say or do anything. It hurt, it really did, being in a body that didn't seem like mine. I felt so helpless. And I wasn't of much help to you, either." She lowered her eyes, almost exasperated. "I've been nothing but a pain, really."

"You're not a pain. Not at all. So don't put yourself down."

"Sorr—" She bit her lip, then smiled. "Okay."

"You're fine now, right? Is everything okay upstairs?" He knocked on Colette's forehead like a door.

She chuckled. "Yup. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I'm  _starving_."

*

That night they robbed Dirk of every drop of beer he had. Genis whipped up something that looked like mush but tasted like paradise, and they all sat squished around Dirk's low table, celebrating Colette's mental homecoming. They laughed and ate, listened to Zelos' extensive theories as to exactly why her perfectly adorable voice matched her perfectly adorable face, and the beer flowed. Colette raised her mug in one hand, and with the other sought Lloyd's under the table. He held it loosely, chuckling at the little things she wrote in his palm as Zelos' stories got more and more ludicrous.

Colette hadn't been kidding when she'd said she was hungry. She ate plate after plate, and to Lloyd's delight, turned out to be just as messy of an eater as he was. Come to think of it, he had never actually seen her eat.

Lloyd was busy savoring this somewhat mundane revelation when Zelos and Sheena decided it would be a good idea to try and convince them all to play a drinking game.

"Okay," Sheena said, leaning over the table like she had serious business to discuss. "Here's a classic game from Flanoir. But we have to go outside. Which should be fine, since it's still warm out."

"We'll have to light the lanterns," Dirk said, scooting away from the table.

Sheena explained the game as she poked around Dirk's house, looking for tools. "First of all, we need a stump. Shouldn't be too hard, given this is a forest and all. Then we need… aha. A hammer."

"This sounds dangerous," Genis said dubiously.

"You can't play anyway," Raine replied. "You're too young and you have schoolwork."

"Raine,  _seriously_? Even after Colette's back? And Lloyd has just as much work as I do." She shut him up with a bop on the ear. "Ow!"

"Don't worry, miss," Dirk laughed. "I'll keep an eye on him. Make sure he gets all his work done."

"Would you? That would be so nice," she said. Raine didn't see the dwarf send a wink in her little brother's direction. Genis pretended to give in reluctantly, sure that Dirk was at least going to let him try a little beer tonight.

Sheena seemed to have collected all the supplies for the game and led them outside. Dirk lit the outdoor lamps while she explained the rules. "Here I have a hammer. And here is a nail. And here is a stump." They all nodded. "Any questions so far?"

"Yeah," Zelos said. "Is this gonna turn into a brawl, and if so, can I formally request that each of you stays away from my face?"

"No brawling. At least not until the second round. Each of you has a nail." She turned to the stump and hammered one in about a quarter of an inch. It was a massive thing—the kind of nail that might have been used to build only the strongest of dwarfish equipment. "So, I go all the way around and put in six. Dirk, are you playing?" The dwarf shook his head. "Okay, five. When you have the hammer, you get one swing.  _One swing,_ Zelos." He looked over his shoulder as if he was sure she meant to address someone behind him. "Whoever gets his or her nail all the way in first wins. Unless you strike your nail all the way in the first time, you have to drink. Every time you screw up, you have to drink. Mostly," she raised her beer, "you just drink."

"Sounds fine to me," Lloyd said, glancing over at Colette. He didn't know if she shared Zelos' and Sheena's bad habits, but he thought that since she was the Chosen and all, she should be allowed to. Goddess knew she needed a drink after her whole ordeal.

Lloyd went first, and hammered with all his might. The dwarfish nail stood, proudly unmoved, and he retreated. Sheena and Raine performed as poorly, clinked glasses, and drank. Zelos, all talk, swung the hammer a few times for practice before he got the angle precisely right. He widened his stance, raised the hammer above his head, and bent the nail so out of shape it looked like it would never be straight again.

"Good job," Lloyd laughed.

"Oh shut up, you little twerp," Zelos said, raising the hammer. "It was a better shot than yours."

"Oh yeah?" Lloyd couldn't help puffing out his chest a little. "At least mine's not all floppy."

Zelos scrunched up his face and locked glares with him, and for a second he thought he might just get hit with that hammer.

"Good gods, you two, just kiss already," Sheena said, and Raine burst out laughing. She quickly covered her mouth and cleared her throat, excusing herself. But she was still smiling when she raised her beer to her lips.

"Colette, hunny, you're next," Zelos said, handing her the hammer. She gripped it timidly and approached the stump, frowning.

"So do I just… like this?" she raised the hammer above her head.

"Sure, just try to hit your nail," Sheena told her.

"Um. Okay." When Colette brought down the hammer, a massive crack tore through the air. Zelos instinctively covered his face, Sheena ducked, and Lloyd stared at Colette, who backed off as if she'd done something awful. It took Lloyd a moment to completely process the fate of the stump, which now creaked, split in half, the hammer and nail buried deep inside of it.

"Oh no," Colette said. "I'm sorry, I ruined it." She reached down and wrenched the hammer from the stump's splintered corpse, looking it over.

Zelos blinked slowly. "Well, hunny, I guess you just don't know your own strength."

Raine smiled. "Or maybe it just wasn't the right game for the occasion."

"Oh, okay," Sheena said, recovering from her shock at Colette's display of uncanny strength. "I know this one game from Mizuho. It's usually done with sake, but since we have none, beer will have to do. First, everyone stands in a circle, and then one of us gets blindfolded—Dirk, you got any cooking grease? We're gonna need lots."


	21. Iselia

"Here you go, Lloyd," Dirk put a piece of metal in Lloyd's hand and closed his fingers around it. The dwarf stood there for a moment, looking at Lloyd's small human hand in his giant one. He sighed and let go. "Take care of yourself."

Lloyd smiled. "I will."

"C'mere." The dwarf wrapped his arms around him and squeezed the air out of him. "Ah, I just wish things coulda turned out better for you than they had. But when you're done with all your drama, you're always welcome here. There aren't any other dwarves around here, so I wouldn't mind being stuck with a human apprentice, if you're interested."

Lloyd smiled. "Maybe. When this is all over I'll definitely come back and visit."

"I wish you luck."

"Thanks."

Lloyd was almost reluctant to leave the dwarf's little house and get back on the road. He'd wanted to take Noishe with him, but he didn't know how the poor animal would handle the rheiard rides. Besides, Dirk had said he had been enjoying Noishe's company for months and was happy to take care of him. He seemed to have forgiven the dog for all his years of service to Kratos.

Before they left, Lloyd removed his expensive Tethe'allan key crest and put it in his pocket. He flipped Dirk's project in his fingers, looking it over, the impeccable craftsmanship, the pleasing shape, the gilded curves shining gold in the light. He wished he had been able to make something like this, something so beautiful, so functional. Maybe he should go back and accept that apprenticeship. At least he might be able to help other ranch escapees like himself, give them a chance at a longer life.

The skin around his exsphere was greenish and flaking, and burned when he touched it. He tried not to look too hard at the stone as he placed Dirk's key crest over it and snapped it in place. The crest pinched his skin, but he could ignore the pain. It felt so much tighter, much more secure than his previous one, and after a few minutes of adjusting, it almost felt like he didn't have an exsphere at all. He chalked it up to the dwarf's exemplary craftsmanship. As he walked, the pain in his hand receded, but each time he hopefully checked his arm, he found the same unnerving discoloration. The disease, or whatever it was, didn't look like it was done spreading. He would have to keep an eye on it.

With Colette back to normal and Lloyd graced with a little more time to live, they would have to decide what course to take next. It turned out to be a more difficult discussion than he had first thought.

"So, I was thinking," Sheena said, when they were well past the ranch and near enough to Iselia to be safe, "if we want to deal with this whole mana imbalance, I'd better start making pacts with the spirits in both worlds."

"Do you really think that will help?" Raine said. "Undine said the links were how the two worlds exchanged mana, but we don't know if severing them is the correct thing to do."

"What else can we do?" Sheena said. "As it is, you've completed your Regeneration, and we're on the decline. If we don't do something about it, Tethe'alla's screwed."

"I'm not saying we don't do anything about it," Raine said. "I'm saying we should perhaps look at every option before we choose one. And with Lloyd—"

"I'm fine," Lloyd said.

"I meant, with your father. What are you going to do about your father?"

"I… don't know," he admitted. "I guess I'm going to have to find the Renegades, and ask Yuan about him. That was my plan."

"It looks like we might be splitting up soon, then." A half dozen faces fell, just a little, but Raine took a breath and continued. "In any case, no matter what we do, the first step is recovering the rheiards."

They all had to mutter in agreement. As they gave up trying to get ahead of themselves and again focused on the hike, Raine fell into step beside Lloyd, slowing a little to let the others wander out of earshot.

"Lloyd," she said, adjusting her pack. She spoke quietly, as if she were about to tell him a secret. "Your hand has… changed. How does it feel?"

"It actually feels... fine," he said. "Weirdly."

"Well, please allow me to continue examining it. If you don't mind."

"Of course."

"Let me know if anything changes. Immediately."

"I will. And Raine?" Lloyd looked at the front of the group, where Colette and Genis seemed happily engaged in a word guessing game. "What about her? Have you figured it out yet?"

Raine pursed her lips. "Unfortunately I think I have. I've been scouring texts to find out a cure."

"Well, what is it?"

"She has... she's suffering from a gradual paralytic petrifaction caused, I think, by her Cruxis Crystal."

"What the hell does that mean?" Lloyd said, perhaps a little too loudly.

"I don't know yet. Some of my books have mentioned it, only briefly. Chronic Angelus Crystallus Inofficium."

Lloyd almost flinched at the name. "It sounds serious."

"It can be. But I've read that there is a cure. Some of the ingredients I already have stashed away. I have a few herbs and a unicorn horn, so I'm at least partly prepared to deal with it. I'll do some more reading when we get to Iselia."

When they reached the village, some of the townspeople came out to greet Colette. Men and women embraced her, children ran around her legs, and she gave them her most benevolent smile, greeting them amicably, as if she had never left. When they asked her about the Regeneration, she only answered that it was in progress, that everything was going fine, and they had only come around for some supplies. She pacified them so efficiently and easily, Lloyd wondered if it was a skill she had been honing for years. He supposed that was why Raine always let her neglect her schoolwork—she had plenty of more important things to learn.

When the townspeople had tired of bothering their Chosen and her companions, familiar and new, Lloyd followed Raine and Genis to their house. He threw his pack on the floor and settled down, stretching across the wood. Genis took his usual place at the stove, and Raine took hers between the covers of a gargantuan book. Lloyd unpacked his things and made himself a nest on their floor, where he sat staring at his two exspheres.

He hadn't wanted to leave his mother back there, in the cold ground. But he supposed Dirk would take care of her memory, leave flowers on her grave, tend to it and make sure that she had a peaceful place to rest. Lloyd supposed there were worse places for her grave to be. And he had a little piece of her, at least, in his exsphere. Even if there was no truth to the idea that the stone might house some part of her, alive but bodiless, he had to admit it was comforting to know he had something. Something she had worn, something she had protected.

He figured after he found his dad, he might as well return the exsphere to him. He supposed he ought to hand over the locket as well. Lloyd wouldn't have much use for them, when everything was done and over with. He never knew how much time he had left, but even Dirk and his craftsmanship couldn't promise much. Besides, he might see his mother on the other side anyway, then he'd have no use for trinkets. Maybe after his exsphere killed him, he'd make sure it would protect someone else close to him. Maybe he'd have Kratos give it to Colette.

He toyed with the thought all evening. After he had helped clean up dinner, when Raine buried herself deep in her book and Genis was chewing his pencil trying to work through a set of mathematics problems, Lloyd decided he might as well go for a walk.

The sky was soft, dusky yellow, and the air hung heavy over Iselia. He supposed there was no better backdrop on which to watch Zelos and Sheena, who had decided to set up camp in the vacant schoolhouse, dangle from the roof. From his vantage point, it looked like they were trying to acrobatically outdo one another.

"All right, Lloyd," Sheena called down to him when she saw him walk by. "Tell us who does the backflip better." She squatted against the wall, pushed off, traced a beautiful arc through the night air and landed squarely on her feet.

Zelos frowned at her, trying to keep his balance on the rooftop.

"I don't think you should try that," Lloyd warned him.

"Can't compete with ninjutsu," she taunted.

"Whatever, hunny. You just watch." Sheena did, eyes bright, as Zelos sailed off the building, wobbling precariously in the air, and crashed into a rosebush. Before Sheena and Lloyd could move to help him, he sprang from the bush, a few thorns embedded in his cheek. "I swear, why do we only do things you're good at? If this were a beauty contest, I'd be wiping the floor with you."

"Not anymore you wouldn't. You've got some, uh… schmutz on your face." Zelos' hand moved up to his cheek, brushed the thorns, and he flinched. "I'll help you with that," Sheena offered, laughing and taking a step toward him.

"No way," Zelos hissed, scrambling backwards. "This is my precious face. I'll do it myself."

Lloyd watched Sheena chase Zelos behind the schoolhouse and disappear before continuing his little tour of the town. He smiled to himself and strode past the school, past abodes and barns, until he came to a house whose front window gave off a glow so warm he had to stop and bask in it. He stared through the glass, and saw three faces: one was an old woman, wizened and brown, one belonged to Colette, and one belonged to what Lloyd thought must be her father. They shared the same golden hair, the same kind face, and he couldn't help but stare at them as they ate and talked and laughed. Lloyd thought he looked like he was a good father, at least on the surface. But Lloyd didn't have much experience with good fathers, so he could very well be mistaken.

Colette, mid-laugh, turned her head toward the window and locked eyes with him. She smiled, he waved timidly. She leaned over the table, passed some food to her father, said something to him, and got up. Lloyd watched the front door creak open, and Colette came out, smiling, wiping her mouth.

"Hello, Lloyd," she said.

"I don't want to interrupt," he said.

"You're not. I was just done." She took his arm and led him down the street. "How do you like Iselia? I know it's not very impressive, but it's home."

"I think it's nice. It must be hard having the ranch right there, though."

"We have a treaty with them. They leave us alone, for the most part."

"Oh." It must've been wonderful, not having to constantly worry about raids, kidnappings, violence, ranch taxes. He briefly wondered how the refugees from the Asgard ranch were doing.

"Colette," he started.

"Yes?" she looked over at him, her hair shining in the dim light.

"When we go to get the rheiards, I... I want you to stay here."

"Lloyd…" she muttered, visibly disappointed.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," he said. "Here, you have a family, you're safe. You should wait for us to return."

"I can't, Lloyd. Don't you remember? I'm supposed to be on my quest of Regeneration. I can't just give up and stay here."

"But I don't know what will happen—"

She stared him down until he shut his mouth. "Please don't make me stay here, Lloyd. I want to come with you. And I can take care of myself. We both know it."

"But—"

"Why are you trying to get rid of me?" she asked, upset.

He was suddenly reminded of the first time his father had abandoned him at the Palmacosta academy. He had desperately wanted to stay with his dad, gods knew why—it was probably better for him that he hadn't, and he had always resented being left behind. He felt trapped, penned in by the excuses that it had been for his own safety. Gods, he would be damned before he did to Colette what Kratos had done to him. He wasn't going to let himself turn into that sort of tyrant.

"I'm not trying to get rid of you," Lloyd gave in. "I'm sorry. If you want to come, you should. You're your own person and you can do what you want. I was just worried about you. I don't want you to get hurt again, not after what happened last time."

She smiled. "I understand, I really do, but what would the village think if their savior gave up and came home? What if she abandoned the world for her own safety? I can't be safe, I can't stay home, not until Sylvarant is saved. I don't know how we'll do it, but we will. And then we can come back here. I'll come to visit my family, and you'll come to start that apprenticeship with Dirk."

"I'd really like that," he said.

"Me too." She smiled, taking his hand again. "Don't worry about me, Lloyd. I'll be fine. But thank you for worrying. Thank you for everything."

Without warning, she leaned in, laying her lips on his cheek. He froze for a moment, skin tingling, and couldn't help the stupid grin that crossed his face. "Uh…" was all he could say.

She giggled. "I should go to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Lloyd. Don't stay up all night."

"See you." He watched her go, skin still warm where she touched it, and when she disappeared around the corner, he stared at her footprints in the dirt.

He smiled uncontrollably, folding his hands behind him and making his way back to Raine and Genis' house. He couldn't help but feel a bit glad he'd failed to convince Colette to stay in Iselia. Even when she had been silent, lifeless, she had been good company. A part of him didn't want to continue this journey alone, wherever it took him, but a bigger part wanted not to turn into his father.

*

It wasn't until a few years after Kratos had sent him away to Palmacosta that things turned truly sour between them. When Lloyd entered his teen years, that was the beginning of the end.

It wasn't so much that Lloyd didn't do well at school. If his father had been a normal parent, that sort of thing might've mattered. But what seemed to bother Kratos most was that Lloyd had any sense of identity, any mind of his own, any backbone at all. When he heard that his son had been wandering off during classes, or leaving the academy without supervision, or doing anything at all without explicit permission, that's what upset him. His father seemed to make it his mission to stifle any excitement or curiosity about anything even remotely risky. And Kratos seemed to think everything was risky.

By the time Lloyd was fourteen, and his father had picked him up for the summer holiday, he was quite used to hearing the usual "No"s, "Stay here"s and "It's too dangerous"es. He was used to getting endless commands but no suggestions, limitless orders but no conversation. He was used to following his father wordlessly, head down, ever-obedient, having his own ideas and inquiries shot down. But there was nothing he could do, except fall in line behind his father. There was nowhere for him to go, no family he could run to, no place Kratos wouldn't be able to find him. So he shut his mouth and followed, keeping to himself.

That summer it was especially hot. Lloyd was relieved when his dad said they would be going into the mountains, toward the coast. He was eager to escape the wet lowland heat and the countless mosquitoes, and as they made their way up into the mountains, (what for, Lloyd wasn't sure), he relished the cool, mercifully dry air. He was prepared to enjoy this particular trip—the only problem was that their route brought them within a few miles of the Palmacosta human ranch. Kratos, who normally maintained some degree of the jitters, went absolutely insane with panic.

Lloyd couldn't even go for a piss by himself without his father hovering, scouring the distance for any sign of danger. The man came and went, snuck off and returned, sharp ears perpetually perked, hand resting on his sword hilt. Even Noishe, who was jumpy even at the best of times, couldn't match Kratos for fear.

On the third day, when they settled down that night to rest, a fire was out of the question. Between bites of hard bread and old cheese, and frequent wishful thoughts of a hot pot of tea, Lloyd tried to whisper some sense into his father.

"You know," he started, "you don't have to freak out all the time. The Desians aren't going to look in their own backyard for slaves. They usually go to Palmacosta."

"You know nothing about it, Lloyd," his father said, eyeing the trees suspiciously. "You don't think they patrol for escapees?"

Lloyd shrugged. All these years of wandering the wilderness with his dad, he met very few Desians in a place as deserted as this. They went for more populated areas, where the human harvest was so much better. But he knew he couldn't argue with Kratos, so he leaned back on a fallen log, munching on his pathetic dinner and watching the sun set behind the trees.

Suddenly his father's head whipped around, like a deer hearing a twig crack. Hand on his sword, he trotted to the edge of camp. Lloyd sat up, curious, but he hadn't heard anything. Noishe lowered his head and growled deeply, and Kratos slowly drew his sword, trying to keep its metallic ring to a minimum.

"What is it?" Lloyd asked, pushing himself to his feet.

"Be quiet and stay here," his father said, never taking his eyes off the forest. He crept into the shadowy trees, Noishe close behind, hackles raised. Lloyd swallowed the last of his dinner, watching them disappear into the forest. He fully intended to follow them, of course, but he lingered for a moment, barely breathing, listening intently for any sign of trouble. The trees into which his father had gone remained silent, except for the gentle rustling of pine needles. When a noise finally caught Lloyd's attention, it came from the opposite direction.

He froze, straining to hear. Leaves crunching, a voice, maybe a man's, then, after a full minute, a muffled yell.

Lloyd pulled himself to his feet. He didn't have a weapon, but he knew that whoever—or whatever—was out there in the woods would stumble upon him soon enough. He might as well know what he was up against. He crept as silently as he could through the undergrowth, ears perked, eyes scanning. He held his breath, trying to stay low, to stay quiet, and only crawled for a short while before he came upon what had made the noise.

Only a few feet away, in a small clearing, a man struggled to his feet. He was deathly thin, dressed in ill-fitting rags. Bruised and bloodied white skin was visible where the cloth had torn. Two Desians flanked him, taking turns insulting him, striking him, daring him to try to escape. He darted back and forth between his two attackers, looking for an exit, and Lloyd could not help but think of two cats he had seen at the Palmacostan harbor, taking turns toying with a dying fish. The man wore much the same look of suffocating shock as the fish had—mouth agape, eyes wide, body twisting and flailing in painful desperation.

Almost unconsciously, Lloyd reached to the ground by his knee. His fingers closed around a heavy stone, and he slowly, silently rose to his feet. The Desians, laughing and distracted, did not see him stand and wind up his arm. They only stopped laughing when the rock flew through the air and hit one of the Desians' heads with a satisfying thump. The half-elf dropped to the ground, and his partner immediately looked to where Lloyd stood, now empty-handed.

Be brave, he told himself. Be brave. But he was shaking, his legs itching to run.

"Who the hell are you?" the Desian bellowed, making for him. The prisoner froze up, wide eyes locked with Lloyd's. Run, he thought. Run, you idiot. Before Lloyd could reach down and pick something up to defend himself with—a rock, a stick, anything—the Desian grabbed him by the collar. He dragged him to the center of the clearing and threw him down on the dirt.

Lloyd rolled, jumping up and placing himself between the Desian and the prisoner. He raised his arms, hands curled into fists. His mind frantically told him to swing, that if he could just land a good hit on the Desian he'd get out of this mess, he'd be able to get back to the camp unharmed, Kratos wouldn't discover him, all if he could just take a swing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?" the Desian said, brandishing his whip. Lloyd gulped, mind rushing in circles, fists shaking. As the Desian raised the weapon, he hid his face behind his forearms, waiting for the stinging blow.

No blow came. Instead, Lloyd heard a low growl. In a flash of greenish hair, Noishe sprang from the bushes and clamped his teeth around the Desian's shoulder. The man screamed, fell to his knees, and dropped his weapon. As he cried out, struggling to pry the dog from him, Lloyd froze, shocked. He had never seen Noishe do anything like this—the animal was usually so docile, even fearful. He took a step away from the scene, putting as much distance between him and this frightening new Noishe, and backed into his father.

A rough, gloved hand pushed him aside, into the brush, and he scrambled to sit up. At Kratos' deep call, Noishe released the Desian. Bloodied and horrified, the half-elf struggled toward his whip, outstretched hand falling to the ground when Kratos ran him through. The second Desian, now wobbling to his feet and holding his head, didn't have time to draw his sword before his head flew from his shoulders. Shaking blood from his sword, Kratos turned on the prisoner.

Lloyd's stomach dropped, and he scrambled forward. "Wait!" he shouted.

His father, as usual, ignored him. He stepped toward the prisoner, who raised his hands in supplication, begging for his life. Kratos cut it mercifully short by stabbing him through the heart.

Lloyd collapsed again to his knees. The escapee fell forward in silence, a cloud of dust rising where his body had crumpled. Lloyd stared at the corpse for a few moments, clenching and unclenching his fists, before he mustered the courage to speak. "Why did you do that?" he whispered. "He didn't do anything wrong."

Kratos turned. "He saw us."

Lloyd threw out his arms to catch his balance as his father hauled him by the collar back into the forest. Noishe, muzzle still stained red, followed closely behind.

"You killed him!" Lloyd repeated stupidly, struggling against Kratos' grip. "You killed him for no reason! Let me go! You're no better than the Desians! You're one of them!"

Kratos spun him around, expressionless, and struck him on the cheek. Lloyd stumbled back, stunned, raising a hand to his stinging skin. He opened his mouth to speak, but before anything could come out, his father hit him again. One swift fist to the back of his head, and Lloyd was half-blind, immobilized. He doubled over, head spinning, trapped in his father's iron grip.

He felt himself being picked up. He saw nothing but a vague blur, a purplish glow radiating from the edges of his vision. Something like wind rustled his hair, and he felt cold all of a sudden. His body felt light, too light, but he couldn't get up, couldn't find ground. He swore for a moment that he could almost feel himself hover, weightless, in the air.

But when he opened his eyes again, he was securely on the ground, at the mouth of a cave on a shady, tree-dotted hillside. Near his feet, a small fire blazed, and although the sun was still low in the sky, the mountains behind which it set were unfamiliar. He blinked, confused, and rubbed his eyes. Where was the forest, the ranch, the bodies of the men his father had killed?

He painfully felt for lumps on the back of his head, wondering how hard Kratos must've conked him to make him forget what had obviously been a long journey. His father emerged from the woods, logs in hand, and knelt down by the fire.

"Where are we?" Lloyd asked. He realized Kratos must've carried him here. Him, the packs, everything.

"Don't get up," his father said, not taking his eyes from the fire. "You need rest."

"Like hell. Where are we? What did you do with the bodies?" He took a step toward his dad. "And what did you do to my head?"

Kratos stood to meet him. "We needed to get out of there, fast. I could've taken care of it, but you had to—" Kratos paused at Lloyd's defiant look, towering over him angrily. "Don't you ever, ever do anything like that again, Lloyd. Do you hear me?"

Lloyd felt blood rush to his face. "Why? Because it was the right thing to do?"

"Because you could've been killed. Or worse."

"Worse? What could be worse than what you did to that prisoner? I wanted to help him!" He couldn't imagine any worse fate than having a sword driven through your heart, right when you thought you'd escaped your captors.

"I don't care, Lloyd." The look on his father's face was immovable.

"Of course you don't care. You don't care about anything but yourself." Lloyd turned to go. He certainly had no destination, but he knew he couldn't stay around Kratos.

"Look at me, Lloyd," his father called after him. "Lloyd!"

Without thinking, he made his way to the edge of the forest, his father following, calling his name. He couldn't look at him, couldn't be near him, not this bloodstained bastard. He started to run, jumping over underbrush, trying to disappear into the green, to fly away. But he couldn't—his father was right there, always a few steps behind. The man was silent, inescapable, indefatigable, and after what Lloyd knew must've been less than a pathetic mile, he gave up. After he tripped on a stray root, falling face-first into the dirt, he didn't bother picking himself back up again.

His father stood over him, radiating frustration, and reached down to haul him back to his feet. Lloyd, too pained, tired and aimless to continue his daring escape, and exhausted of all his usual defenses, decided to get out the big guns.

He smiled bitterly as Kratos gripped his arm and hauled him upright. "I wonder what mom would think if she saw you push your kid around like this?" Kratos stopped, deathly still, hand locked around Lloyd's arm. "Would she be surprised?" Lloyd continued, on the cusp of victory. "Or did you hit her too?"

He could see Kratos clench his teeth, fingers tightening, pale face motionless in the evening light. Then, a moment later, he turned beet red, arms shaking, trying desperately to hold himself back. Lloyd almost smiled at the sight. He had struck blows against his father using Anna before, but never had one landed so precisely, and so powerfully.

Kratos managed to control himself only a few seconds before he dragged Lloyd up by the collar and slammed him against the nearest tree. Lloyd could tell he was trying his best not to break his neck, not to wrap his hands around his windpipe and choke the life from him. For a moment, he actually entertained the thought he might die here, that Kratos would kill him the same way he'd killed the innocent prisoner.

This was the first time he had seen his father completely lose control, and a tiny, undeniably sick part of him felt a strange sort of elation. At that moment, he was the only person in the world who could get under Kratos' thick skin, he was the only one who could have any power over the normally stoic, invincible man. It was a perverse kind of power, Lloyd knew, but when his father grabbed his face, palm covering his eyes, his heart skipped a beat with something that may have resembled triumph.

When his vision cleared and his eyes opened, it took his sluggish, sleep-addled brain a moment to realize his father had used magic on him. He tried to move his arms, tried to get up, but couldn't. He looked around, glancing at the cave, the fire, but his father was nowhere in sight. The bastard must've used a binding spell of some sort. Not that Lloyd wasn't used to it—when he was a child and prone to flailing in his sleep, Kratos had cast many a spell over him to keep him still and silent.

He sighed. It had been so many years since he'd felt this helpless, this stupid. He wondered if any wanderers might come across him here, paralyzed by the fire, and help him. He knew it was unlikely, so he decided he might as well not try to call for help. He lay there, bored and sore, watching the fire lick at the starry sky. After half an hour or so, his father returned, followed closely by Noishe. He carried what looked to be the bloodied body of a rabbit with him. He didn't look at Lloyd, didn't greet him, just slapped the dead animal down on a flat rock and skinned it.

Lloyd watched because there was nothing better to do, but he didn't speak. He vowed he would never speak to his father again, after what happened. He only stared at the fire, at his father's bloody hands cutting the meat from the rabbit's bones, at the pot boiling over the flames. He watched dried herbs and spices go in the stew, the chunks of meat, an old, budding potato.

"You know," his father said quietly, stirring the pot, "I often ask myself what went wrong." Lloyd sat silently, trying not to listen, but he couldn't help it. "Am I being tested? Why did the gods give me a son like you?"

Because they're the same cruel bastards that would give me a father like you, Lloyd thought, but his recent vow prevented him from speaking.

"And then I realized, it wasn't the gods that went wrong, it was me. When did I let you become so cruel, so self-absorbed? Was it when your mother died? Was it before, even? Maybe if she were alive, we both would've turned out differently."

He tossed a bone to Noishe, who gnawed at it eagerly. An enticing smell wafted from the pot, and Lloyd's stomach growled. He tried to tell it to shut up, to not give away how much he wanted that soup, but it rumbled on.

"Nevertheless. It was wrong of me to strike you. There is no excuse for that." Kratos put a lid on the pot, stood, and came over to him. Lloyd tried not to look him in the eyes. "Are you ready for dinner?" he asked. "Are you going to run away?"

Lloyd stared at his feet, trying to scowl, flinching at the pain in his face. His father sighed and knelt beside him, waving a hand over him. When the metaphysical cords fell away, Lloyd stayed still. He was afraid to move, so he waited until his father walked back to the fire before he sat up. His dad slopped some stew into a thin metal bowl and handed it to him. He didn't serve any for himself, but he gave Noishe a few mouthfuls.

The soup was delicious, and strangely comforting. The more Lloyd ate, the more comfortable he became, and he only got through half his bowl before he had to set it down and close his eyes. His pain left him, and warmth spread from his stomach through his limbs. He yawned. It seemed like all the drama of the past day, the fear, the exhaustion, the confusion, and the remnants of Kratos' spell had all caught up to him at that moment.

His head drooped, and his father was there, asking him if he was all right. He was suddenly too tired to answer, and only muttered some nonsense. He closed his eyes and arms wrapped around him, picking him up. His father carried him to his bedroll and lay him down, limp and yawning. He draped the blanket over him and stood up to leave.

Lloyd, still in a soporific haze, heard himself say, "Wait."

His father turned and knelt by him.

"I'm… I…" he couldn't get the words out for the life of him. He must've temporarily lost his mind. Even now, he could hardly remember exactly what he had said. It was something like, "I miss her."

Kratos was silent for a while before replying, "Me too. More than you know."

Lloyd closed his eyes, and even though he desired nothing more than to stay awake, to nurse the resentment and anger he had towards his father, sleep came over him like water, and he swiftly, mercifully drowned in it.


	22. Light

"Lloyd, wake up. Lloyd!" He cracked his eyes open to see Raine hovering over him. "How late did you stay up last night? You're impossible to wake."

"Um. Not too late," he said. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"You look like hell," Genis said. "What did you do last night?"

"I went for a walk, came back here, and just… fell asleep."

"Well, I hope you're rested," Raine said. "We're going back to get the rheiards. The others are waiting at the village gates."

Lloyd pulled himself upright in a haze, wiping the last of sleep from his eyes. Genis, weighed down by his huge pack, nearly shoved him out the door. He managed to eat a half bite of toast and get only one boot properly laced before the siblings escorted him from their house to the village entrance.

"Morning Lloyd!" Zelos said, sporting a ridiculous farmer's hat.

"How are you always so peppy in the morning?" Lloyd yawned. "And where did you get that hat."

"One of the lovely locals gave it to me. Think it looks good?"

"No."

"Me neither. But I can't throw it away until I at least get out of her radar. No use burning those bridges, eh?"

Colette rounded the corner, wearing her usual smile, and greeted them all with a Chosen-like bow. Lloyd figured she might have to keep up appearances while the village was under the impression they were still on their Regeneration journey.

"It  _does_  feel eerily like when we first set off," Genis said, as they headed south.

"How things have changed," Raine murmured.

"Tell me about it."

They stopped for lunch a few miles out of Iselia. Lloyd sat down on a rock, unpacked what Genis had made him, and began to eat. Instead of food, Raine pulled out a notebook and began furiously scribbling.

Lloyd looked over her shoulder, curious. "What are you writing?"

"I'm just jotting down a few notes about the geological and astronomical similarities—and differences—between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla."

Lloyd looked over her shoulder at her drawings. "I've noticed that the moons are different," he said, "but the stars are the same."

"Have you, Lloyd? That's very observant of you. Perhaps I should get you started on an astronomy textbook sometime."

"Uh. No thanks, prof. I'm only good at memorizing their shapes and the stories behind them."

"So what do you think of that strange fact? The identical stars, I mean. What could be a possible physical explanation for it?"

Lloyd didn't know if she was testing him or if the question was rhetorical. He didn't know that much about physics, and probably never would. "Um," he answered.

"I was thinking that perhaps the... interdimensional rift between the two worlds is weaker than I previously suspected," Raine continued. "They're less physically separated, and more directionally opposed. Like two sides of a coin."

"Or," Lloyd ventured, "one of the skies is fake."

"What?" He swore she outright cringed.

"Yeah, what if it's just a trick? Like a giant painting?"

"Lloyd. You can't be serious…"

He shrugged.

"That's it. I'm starting you on Genis' old astronomy text tomorrow."

"Seriously? Prof, I've already got a lot on my plate."

"Lucky for us you're quite the voracious eater, then."

"I don't even know what that means."

Raine sighed. "That's part of the problem."

Lloyd frowned and decided to leave Raine to her work. It seemed that every time he bothered her, she came up with another assignment for him. He would just have to avoid interrupting her studies from now on, until… well, probably until he was dead, if he was going to be realistic about it.

They finished lunch and continued onward. Lloyd mostly watched his feet, a little disappointed that in his curiosity he had accidentally added another class to his schedule. But the fresh air and long hike made him forget the impending assignments, and he began to whistle. Colette walked beside him, finding his hand and squeezing it.

"You know," Sheena started, "if what Undine said was true, and for each pact we make the worlds drift a little farther apart, don't you think it would be a good idea to make a few while we're here? I mean, we don't even know how we're going to get back to Tethe'alla. The Otherworldly Gate is closed, and I don't exactly want to go crawling back to the Renegades to use theirs."

Raine scratched her chin. "I'm a little reluctant to continue making pacts when we really have no idea of the physical effects. We don't know if that's the right course of action."

"What choice have we got, at this point?" Sheena asked.

"Not much," Raine conceded. "Still, first thing's first. We recover our mobility."

"Yeah," Sheena sighed. "First thing's first."

"At least it's a start," Lloyd said. "At least we have somewhere to go. Some sort of direction." And if he could maintain that direction, if he could gather enough momentum to outrun his exsphere and live to see his efforts come to fruition, maybe everything would turn out all right.

When they reached the rheiards, that unwarranted optimism crumbled into dust.

"Oh boy," Sheena sighed. "We're in for it now."

The rheiards were fueled up and ready to go, propped in takeoff position, surrounded by helmeted technicians. Reclining on the nearest one, legs crossed, feet swinging, was Yuan. He smiled down at them, smug as usual, and slipped off the rheiard and onto the soft grass.

Lloyd drew his sword and placed himself between Yuan and Colette. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like? I'm taking back what's mine." He let out a chuckle. "Honestly, you steal my rheiards from me and then have the audacity to ask me what I'm doing here? That's plucky."

"We need those," was all Lloyd could say.

"Do you now? More than I need them? It doesn't look like you're regenerating any worlds. In fact, you seem to be doing quite the opposite."

"At least we're doing  _something_ ," Lloyd hissed, though he was not at all sure of that statement.

"We're all trying to help the world in our own ways," Yuan shrugged, wearing a cruel smile.

Lloyd drew his sword and pointed it in the half-elf's direction. "The best thing you can do for the world right now is tell me where my dad is and then piss off."

Yuan shrugged. "I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him in weeks. But my guess is that he hasn't moved at all since I last saw him."

"Tell me!" Lloyd spouted. "Now!"

"Go on," Yuan laughed, "wrest it from me." He stretched out his hand and with a flash of yellow light, he conjured a massive dual-bladed weapon. He swung it behind him, smiling, ready for Lloyd's attack.

Lloyd was happy to oblige him. He jumped forward, sword raised. He could barely hear his companions behind him, yelling at him to stop, to hold back, that this wasn't the place for it. Yuan had invited him to play and his exsphere had jumped at the opportunity.

He started to regret his decision to go with brute force as soon as Yuan swung his massive weapon forward. It swept Lloyd's sword aside like a boulder crushing a stick, and as he retreated, Lloyd couldn't help but find it impressive that a skinny guy like Yuan could swing that thing at all. He regained his balance, shifted his feet and jumped forward again, sword raised.

Before their blades could meet once more, the sky burst into a fiery storm. Lloyd threw his arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the sudden intense light. A faint whistling soared high above them, and Lloyd squinted up to the sky. He saw nothing but an oppressive golden light, like a new sun was being born right above him. Then something long and sharp buried itself in the ground next to his feet, and he realized the whistling above him was a shower of arrows.

"Cruxis!" someone shouted.

"Goddamn Pronyma," Yuan muttered, swiping a few shafts aside with his huge blade. He quickly motioned to Lloyd and made for the nearest rheiard. "You. Get on, now."

"What?" Lloyd yelled as another arrow flew past his shoulder and landed in the grass behind him.

"We need to get the Chosen out of here," Yuan barked. "Now get on. All of you."

Lloyd didn't waste any more time. As the rain of arrows thickened, he grabbed Colette and scrambled onto the machine behind Yuan. A shower of arrows embedded themselves in the rheiard's wings with a series of chilling thumps. Colette squeezed him around the waist, pressing close to his back while Yuan struggled to start the engine.

After a few seconds of horrifying silence, the machine roared and jerked forward. In a spray of exhaust, they slowly—much too slowly—lifted from the grass and rotated, the nose of the craft turning like a compass toward the south. An arrow whizzed by Lloyd's ear and planted itself in the body of the craft just as they rose into the sky. The ground shrank beneath them, and Lloyd dangled from the side of the rheiard to watch the angelic soldiers descend on the remaining Renegades. The fight kicked up a cloud of dust, and he strained his eyes to see what was going on.

"Are you just gonna leave them there?" he yelled over the wind.

"This is their job," Yuan replied coolly. "They know what they're doing."

Lloyd watched the cloud of white dust disappear into the distance. He turned back around, and Colette held onto his arm as if she thought he might fall off.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He looked himself over before nodding. "You?"

"Yes."

On the journey southward, Lloyd looked over his shoulder and counted the rheiards following them. It looked like they had managed to save all of the machines, but he couldn't account for the people on them. Everyone looked like specks from where he sat—he could only hope that they hadn't left anyone behind. He fretted inwardly for the duration of their flight, praying fervently for the safety of his companions. It seemed like hours, but couldn't have been more than thirty or so minutes. He heaved a sigh of relief when they landed in the desert, next to the Renegade base.

Lloyd disembarked, stretched his legs and helped Colette down after him. The next rheiard hovered for a moment before landing, and the Sage siblings leapt from it unharmed. The third came down with a scream, twisting and wobbling in the air for a moment before landing on its side. Off flew Zelos, with Sheena practically thrown over his shoulder.

"Doc, she's been hit!" he hollered. She struggled slightly in his grasp, insisting weakly that she was fine. Her back and arms were red with blood, and an arrow stuck in her shoulder like a pin in a cushion. Zelos almost lay her down on the ground, calling to Raine.

"Get her inside, you idiot!" the healer yelled. "You want to get sand in her wound?"

Zelos, red-faced, picked her up and followed Yuan inside. They swept through the white halls, past sliding doors and bewildered soldiers. Wordlessly, Yuan led them to a sterile-smelling room with a small bed and an operating table. The place was devoid of personnel, and it echoed eerily as Yuan pushed aside equipment to make room for Sheena. Lloyd looked about the examination room, swallowing a lump in his throat when he realized it was disturbingly similar to the one at the Asgard human ranch.

Zelos helped the summoner down onto the rolling table, where she immediately started to bleed over its pristine white cover. Raine knelt next to her, examining the puncture. Sheena lay on her side, Zelos clasping her limp hand.

"I'm going to have to extract this," Raine said. "It's going to hurt."

"Bring it," Sheena grimaced.

When Raine tugged at the arrow, Sheena's face went from a determined scowl to a regretful look of pain in an instant. Her eyes widened, her nose wrinkled, and she managed to keep her complaints inside for a noble five seconds before she opened her mouth and wailed.

"Shh, honey!" Zelos said, almost panicking, grasping her hand. "Just look at me. Focus on this beautiful face." He leaned down a little too close to her, but she did stop moaning. "That's good. Have you ever seen a visage this fantastic? I think not. Regard the strong jaw line, the flawless skin, the dashing blue eyes. Marvel at it."

"Zelos…" she squeaked.

"Yes, dear?" he leaned in.

"I swear on everything holy, I will kill you."

"You're gonna have to live to do that," Zelos replied.

"It's out," Raine said, brandishing the bloody arrow. The half-elf quickly swabbed the injury, ignoring Sheena's protests, and lay her hands over the summoner's bloodied back. A warm, bluish glow seeped from between Raine's fingers, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on her spell.

"Looks like even an arrow to the back can't stifle your spunk," Zelos smiled proudly, as if he were somehow responsible for Sheena's endurance.

"You need to be quiet, Zelos," the summoner hissed, and he almost looked hurt for a moment. "But don't let go. If things get really painful I need a few fingers to break."

"Uh. Happy to oblige," Zelos replied, a little nervously.

"Shh." Sheena closed her eyes. By the time Raine stood back, wiping sweat from her forehead with bloody hands, Sheena had passed out.

"That's all I can do for now," she said. "But she'll pull through. What she needs now is rest."

Raine cleaned what little remained of Sheena's injury, wrapped it up, and scrubbed her hands. It took practically all of them to finally drag Zelos from Sheena's side, but when they all stood in the hall, shaken but otherwise unharmed, Yuan crossed his arms and sighed with relief.

"Well," he started. "That was an adventure. For a brief moment I was afraid we'd lost our summoner."

" _Our_  summoner?" Genis growled.

Yuan smiled. "Ours. We're going to need her very soon. That is, if you truly want to save both worlds."

"What do you mean?" Lloyd asked.

Yuan instead turned to go. "Rest here for the night. We'll talk in the morning, when Ms Fujibayashi is feeling a bit better." With a dramatic fling of his cape, he swept down the hall. Lloyd was about to call after him, to tell him he couldn't just leave them here after that whole debacle, but he realized, suddenly, that he was just two damn tired to deal with Yuan at that moment.

Still, he couldn't sleep that night. He lay exhausted in the dark, in the cramped and overdecorated room the Renegades had provided for him, but he couldn't force his eyes closed. He couldn't get comfortable, he couldn't find the right position, it was too hot, it was too cold—every moment he stayed awake he came up with another excuse for it.

The truth was, he just couldn't get the images out of his head. Images of Yuan, his father, his mother, Colette, his situation, his future… He couldn't seem to decide whether he should be afraid, angry, mistrustful, accepting, hopeless or motivated—the fate of the world, and his own, seemed too tangled. He couldn't find a clear thread to follow, he couldn't imagine what Yuan might have up his sleeve. And, as always, he wondered if he was actually doing the right thing. It pained him to think that perhaps all this work on the Regeneration, the pacts, looking for his father, were nothing but steps in the wrong direction.

"Damn it all," he muttered to himself, and threw off the covers. He suddenly didn't want to be alone, so he pulled on his pants and made his way to his door. He wondered if he should take a walk and hope he might run into a familiar face, if he should go to the infirmary and check on Sheena, or creep into the room opposite and see if Colette was still awake. She probably was—even though she enjoyed eating again and definitely felt it when he held her hand and kissed her, she still didn't need as much sleep as the rest of them.

He creaked open the door and glanced to his left, then his right. The hall was well-lit but empty, and so he silently made his way to Colette's door. He was about to knock, but apparently she had left it unlocked—it swung open easily, silently.

The Sylvaranti Chosen stood with her back to him, half-naked, wrestling with a bathrobe. Steam filled the room and dissolved from her wet skin, and Lloyd couldn't help staring for a bit too long before he covered his eyes and announced his presence. "Um, Colette, it's me," he said.

"I know," she replied, pulling the robe over her shoulder. "I heard you walk across the hall."

"I'm sorry." He could feel himself turning red. "If you want me to leave, I will."

"No, stay. I'm decent." She smiled at him and sat down on her bed, pulling her wet hair over her shoulder. She adjusted her robe, smiling almost with relief—as if she had hoped or expected some company. "It was getting a little lonely."

"Yeah." Lloyd closed the door behind him and sat on the bed next to her. "I'm so used to sleeping in the same room as everyone else, it almost feels weird to have some peace and quiet."

Colette wrung out a lock of hair. "It's weird not hearing Genis toss and turn in his sleep."

"Or Zelos snoring."

"Or Raine reciting those equations from her dreams."

Lloyd laughed. "I've never heard her do that."

"She only starts well after everyone else has gone to sleep. Once I tried to write one down for her and show it to her, but she just said it was nonsense. Something about the prefrontal… some part of the brain, shutting off in your sleep. Raine says that's why in dreams you lose all sense of logic and rationality."

"Well… I guess that makes sense. In my dreams I'm not very rational." He reached up and helped her untangle a knot from a lock of wet hair. "Raine would say I'm not very rational awake, either." He pulled a strand of hair away from her neck, revealing a smattering of what looked to be green scales. They almost looked a bit like the crystallized cells surrounding Lloyd's malignant exsphere, come to think of it. And gods, it looked like it was almost spreading just as fast as his own ailment. He reached out to touch it, but she flinched, so he took his hand away.

"Please don't look at it," Colette said.

"Colette..." he started. "I've already seen it. It's not new."

"I know. It's just... it's ugly, you know?"

Lloyd almost laughed and raised his left hand. "Have you seen my arm lately? They look exactly alike. So if you're ugly, then I'm ugly."

"You're not..." Colette began, then stopped herself. She smiled weakly. "And if you're not ugly, then I'm not ugly."

Lloyd laughed. "Exactly." When he looked at her face, half distraught and half relieved, he realized why she had not thrown him out while she was only partially dressed, why she had not hidden herself when she heard him coming. She had wanted him to see her like this, wanted him to come to her and assure her that they were the same, that even though their respective diseases would kill them, it was also something they could share. She needed assurance that despite her ailment, she was still herself, she was still lovely, kind Colette—and that he was still Lloyd. She needed to know that he was here for her, that if they were both monsters, hideous, dying monsters, than by all the gods they would be dying monsters together.

He touched her cheek with his greenish, veiny hand and ran it down her scaly neck. Her robe slipped a little down her arm, revealing her sickly, lamellar shoulder. It almost seemed fateful to him, how they nearly matched in their deformities.

"Lloyd," she said, and he pulled away, wondering if he was making her uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It must hurt."

"No, that's not it. It's just… do you mind... um..."

Before she finished her query, her mouth was on his. Pleasantly surprised, he cupped her shoulders and let her push him against the headboard. The wave of emotion that overtook him was both exhilarating and strangely relaxing. His shoulders fell, his eyes closed, and the images that had refused to leave him earlier that night fled into the air. Colette took him over, emptied his mind of everything but her; the pain in his arm vanished, along with the unsettling fear, lingering resentment, insurmountable confusion. For a brief moment, he had the luxury of clarity. In his mind, there was only her—her lips, hair, and the ethereal glow that seemed to rise from her like steam. The stench of sickness and its greenish hue dissipated, replaced by a strange light that might—just might—stave off death for a little while longer.

*

When they were done, Lloyd lay paralyzed on his back, staring at the ceiling. The surety that had taken him over before had retreated, and he could feel uncertainty dripping back into him like a leaking faucet. He didn't know what to say, if anything. Maybe he was supposed to stay silent at this strange, fragile point—he had no idea, and it terrified him. It was as if the reality of what they had both done only hit him after the fact.

He gulped, unsure. "Um…"

Colette turned to him, hugging her knees.

"Did you like it?"

Her smile made all the pent-up fear release in an instant. "Of course I did."

"Oh. Because I was worried you didn't…" He had to stop there.

"Lloyd. I would tell you if I didn't like it."

"So…" he felt himself relax, "it wasn't terrible?"

"Nope." Colette's kind smile warmed him through and through. "And I'm not just saying so."

Lloyd rolled over on his stomach and lay his head on his crossed arms. "It's just that some of the older students at school always talked about how the first time was so awkward and… sometimes disastrous. Someone's parent will always walk in, or neither of them will have any idea of what to do, or it'll hurt—lots of horror stories floating around Palmacosta."

Colette laughed. "I'm sure they're nothing compared to the tales the Priests of Martel would tell young acolytes to keep them under control. Eternal damnation, punishment, dishonor, excommunication. Everything in the Church depended on purity." Her smile faded and she stared at the opposite wall, pensive. "I wonder what the priests would think if they could see their Chosen now."

Lloyd turned on his side and propped his head up on his elbow. "Well, the only other Chosen I know isn't exactly celibate. And he hasn't been struck by lightning yet. Unfortunately."

Colette chuckled into the back of her hand. "That's true." She sighed. "I was always afraid I would die before… you know. I had duties. Regeneration doesn't leave much time for romance. But… it was interesting… Raine said something at Lake Umacy, after we had retrieved the unicorn horn for Pedro."

"Yeah?"

"Apparently a unicorn can only be approached by a pure maiden, so we started talking about what purity meant. I might've mentioned something about thinking I should at least, you know… try, before I died. And Raine said you should never do anything simply because the world told you it should be on your checklist."

"Makes sense, for Raine," Lloyd smiled. "She doesn't let anyone tell her what to do."

"And she's right. I want… everything I do from now on, I want to do because it's my own choice. Not because someone tells me I should."

Lloyd, being a certified rule-breaker and juvenile delinquent, could certainly agree. "And I'll make sure to give a hard smack to anyone who tries to tell you what to do."

"Thank you, Lloyd." Colette's smile faded. "Just don't tell the others… about us. That could make things weird."

"If you want. But things are already kinda weird around here. I'm pretty sure Zelos and Sheena have been at it for a while. They're probably in the medical wing right now, punishing that poor bed."

Colette grinned. "Lloyd, you're so gross."

He pulled her down beside him. "It happens when you go to a boys' school. Especially in a sailor town. The mouths on those people." Lloyd shook his head and tsk-tsked. They lay there in silence for a moment.

"Lloyd?"

"Hmm?

"Thank you."

Lloyd sighed. "So what, this was just a favor for you?"

"No, it's not like that."

He laughed. "I know. I'm just pulling your leg."

"Oh. Heh, I'm just… just glad you don't think I'm hideous."

He sighed and shook his head. He wasn't sure if he had a helpful reply to something so stupidly self-critical, so he instead drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. He lay his head in the hollow of her shoulder, breathing in her scent. He could outrun that darkness inside him for a little longer if he stayed here, attached to her like a limb, so he squeezed her, trying to fall into her skin, to disappear in her embrace, until exhaustion took him and he finally fell asleep.


	23. Yuan

Lloyd woke up alone. In the windowless base, it was impossible to tell the time—for all he knew, it could be night again. He stretched and sat up, yawning. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, pulled on his pants and crept to the door. He opened it, glanced both directions down the hall, and seeing it empty, went back to his room to get properly dressed. He pulled on his shoes and reentered the hallway, wondering where Colette had gone.

He worried for a second she had regretted her decision to spend the night with him. He wondered if she had some lingering fears about the act, instilled in her for so long by her religion. It's not like he had any regrets, but then again he was just a recalcitrant schoolboy with a history of bad behavior, and she was… well, the Chosen One. He couldn't help but question himself, question why he thought he had the gall to try to make it with a girl like her, if she had only been humoring him, if she resented him for being so forward. He wandered the halls, thinking himself more and more into a panic, until he bumped into her.

"Oh!" she smiled. "We were waiting for you." She grabbed his hand gently and led him down the hall. Lloyd scolded himself for getting worked up—here she was, smiling, radiant as always, and he was already worrying that she might never talk to him again.  _What, you didn't believe her when she said she's making her own choices? Gods, Lloyd, have a little more respect than that._ For some reason, the voice that scolded him in his head sounded like Raine.

"How long were you waiting?" he asked.

"Not too long," Colette smiled. "Just long enough that they sent me back to get you. But I thought you needed the rest, so I took my time."

"Thanks."

They made their way to the medical wing and opened the door. Sheena sat up on her bed, looking a bit pale but otherwise fine. Raine, Genis, Zelos and Yuan stood around her, looking less than pleased.

"You sure slept in," Genis said, crossing his arms.

"Well, uh," Lloyd bit his lip for a moment, hoping they wouldn't ask exactly why he had slept in so late. "Now that we're all here," he continued a little too immediately, "Yuan has some explaining to do."

The Renegade sighed. "I do suppose I'll have to inform you of the situation if you're going to be of any use."

"So get on with it."

"Your patience is unmatched, I see." If Lloyd didn't know better, he'd almost call the look on Yuan's face a smirk. "Well, then. Let me begin by saying that I know what you're doing. I know you're planning on severing the mana links between the two worlds."

"Who says we were intending that?" Raine said.

"Well, you said yourself you had little choice in the matter," Yuan smiled. At Raine's surprised look, he shrugged. "I have ears in more places than you'd care to guess."

Sheena crossed her arms, ignoring his implication. "Why is severing the links bad, though?" she asked before Raine could interrogate him on the subject of his numerous ears. "There will be no mana flow, no Regeneration, so no decline."

"It's bad because when the worlds drift apart, mana will disperse. It will no longer be contained within them. It will slowly leak out, and both worlds will wither and die."

"How can you know?" Raine asked.

"I know because I was there when those links were originally made. I was there four thousand years ago, when the world was split in two." An incredulous silence fell over the room. Yuan did not seem to notice. "None of you know what the hell you're doing. You all mean well, but for each pact you make, the link between worlds gets weaker and weaker. When all pacts are made, the worlds will drift apart and die."

"So you're telling us that severing the mana links is no longer an option—" Raine began.

"Wait, you're telling us you were  _there_  when the world split in two?" Lloyd spoke over her.

"Yes," Yuan said.

"There is no  _way_  you're that old."

"Elven blood can work wonders," Yuan said. "Longevity is a complicated process, but I don't have time to walk you through it right now. All you need to know is that I was there, I know how the links were made, so I know what happens when they break."

"As I was  _saying_ ," Raine continued, nudging Lloyd in the knee. "You're telling us we should discontinue severing the mana links?"

"Not entirely," Yuan said. "I'm sure you've all heard of the Kharlan Tree."

"The one from the stories?" Genis asked. "Is it even real?"

"It used to be. But it has reverted to a seed. The state of the worlds will not allow it to grow. However, supplied with enough mana, it will germinate, and then we will have an endless supply."

"So if we just make the tree sprout, then we'll be able to separate the worlds?" Genis asked.

"We could. Or we would be able to reunite them."

Another silence fell over the room. Eventually Lloyd managed to squeeze out a quiet "Reunite?"

"Yes. Lloyd, what has your father told you about the two worlds?"

"Um… just that Tethe'alla is where all the mana is, and that there are a few places where the worlds are linked."

"That's all?"

"Yeah."

"Then I suppose he never told you that the two worlds used to be one."

"No."

"Or that it was Mithos the Hero who split them apart, using the Eternal Sword."

Lloyd took an unsteady breath. "No."

"Or that he helped Mithos do it?"

Lloyd blinked. "What?"

"Did your father ever tell you that the great war between Sylvarant and Tethe'alla ended because four warriors, Mithos, Martel, Yuan, and Kratos, split the world?"

Lloyd's hand began to shake. "No way. No way is my dad that old." He knew his father was a curmudgeonly geezer, but he couldn't be that ancient. And not that…  _heroic_.

Yuan laughed a little. "I wish he would've told you, and saved me the effort. But I suppose that is just like Kratos."

The world around Lloyd blurred and he suddenly felt a little dizzy. A hand on his shoulder steadied him—it was either Raine's or Colette's. "And so… he's responsible for all of this?" Lloyd asked.

"Not just him. Yggdrasill, Martel, and myself are also to blame. We were the ones who split the world, but currently I am the only one trying to put it back together."

Lloyd barely heard the conversation move on without him. He stared at his feet for a moment, listening to the voices float above him.

"Are you all right?" Raine asked him, and he nodded.

"Well, how is this all gonna work?" Sheena asked. "This whole tree-seed, pact-making thing?"

"Firstly, we need to make sure that once reunited, the world's supply of mana is secure. For that we need to germinate the Great Seed. One of the Desian cardinals is developing a weapon capable of that. I believe he calls it the mana cannon. He thinks he's going to use it to overthrow Yggdrasill, but we'll be using it before he does. We need to secure it from him, and pummel the Seed till it sprouts. Providing enough mana will require elemental power of enormous magnitude. We need a summoner for that."

"So you can use the spirits as fuel, basically," Sheena guessed.

Yuan nodded. "Secondly, we need a tool. A sword that only Mithos can wield."

"What's the point of even grabbing the thing if we can't use it?" the summoner asked.

"I'm getting to that. If we manage to make a pact with Origin, we can use it."

"But you'd need a diamond pact ri…" Sheena trailed off. "Lloyd."

Hearing his name, he snapped his head back up. "What?" All eyes were suddenly on him.

"We're gonna need that ring your dad was looking for," Sheena said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine… so we need, what? The pact ring?"

"The one that was in your dad's journal. You remember—you came to the Elemental Institute looking for me to explain it to you."

"Oh, yeah."

"So," Yuan continued. "We need the ring, and we need to break the seal on Origin. Without doing that, we don't stand a chance."

"Well, where is the seal? How do we break it?" Lloyd asked.

"This is where things get a little complicated. The seal is less of a thing and... more of a person."

"Well?"

"The seal was made using the blood and mana of your father, Lloyd."

"W… what?" Lloyd squeaked.

"You gotta quit dropping bombshells on him like that!" Genis said. "Give him a breather, at least."

"I'm afraid we don't have much time for breathers," Yuan crossed his arms. "Lloyd, steady yourself, because I'm afraid this is bad news. If we want to break the seal on Origin and reunite the two worlds, Kratos is going to have to die."

Lloyd blinked. "No."

"It's true. He's the only thing standing between us and a pact with Origin. He is the only thing that is keeping us from destroying Mithos and reuniting the worlds."

"No way," Lloyd shook his head vigorously. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

Lloyd put a hand to his forehead, and tried to rub out the sudden pain that flared behind his eyes. "I won't have any part of this. You're sick, saying stuff like that." He turned. "I don't need to be here. I don't need to listen to nonsense like this."

He strode out of the medical wing without another word. The door slid shut behind him with a hiss, and no one followed him out. He stomped through the halls, unsure of where he was even going. He navigated stairs and corners, aimless, mind running wild. He slid down a tiny corridor, twisting and turning, looking for a quiet place, any place, where he could be alone. After a few minutes (or hours, he couldn't quite tell), he discovered a metallic door, barely two feet wide. He opened it and found what must've been a storage closet. Without realizing exactly what he was doing, he stepped into the darkness and shut the door behind him.

He leaned against the wall and slid down to sit, clasping his knees. What was Yuan thinking, spouting all that bullshit nonsense… About the Kharlan Tree, about Mithos the Hero… Lloyd knew better. He knew they were all made-up stories. Just things you'd tell your kid at night to help them get to sleep. Just stories…

"Lloyd?" Colette's muffled voice came from the other side of the door. He held his breath, trying not to make any noise. He hoped she'd skip this door and move on. "Lloyd. I can hear your heart beating in there."

He released his breath and opened the door. Colette's silhouette almost glowed, and when she sat down beside him and shut the door, she seemed to light up the room. The two of them barely fit inside of the tiny closet, but he felt more comfortable sharing the space with her, for some reason. He sat silently for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say.

"Do you believe him?" he asked Colette.

"I don't know, Lloyd. Do you?"

Lloyd rested his chin on his knees. "I don't want to. But after all the crap I've seen, I kinda feel like I have to."

"Believe anything you have to," Colette said. "Believe what you need to believe to keep yourself going."

Lloyd rubbed his temples. "That's part of the problem. I don't know what beliefs will keep me going, and what won't."

He sighed. He was just glad she was here with him. They sat silently in the closet for a long time, alone, enveloped in comforting shadows. Lloyd just stared ahead at the wall, and Colette held his hand, occasionally squeezing it as if to make sure he was still there. After what seemed like forever, Lloyd had made up his mind on what to do, so he stood up and opened the door. Colette followed him out.

"I'm going to ask Yuan a few questions," he said.

"Oh. Well, go ask what you need to." Colette looked a little hurt, but she let go of his hand. "Do you think the others are still with him?"

"It doesn't matter. I need to talk to him."

"A-all right, then."

He left her in the hall, making his way back to the medical wing. When he opened the door, he found Sheena alone, halfway through a bowl of green-looking slop.

"Where's Yuan?" he asked.

"Probably in his office," she replied. "Hey, are you all—"

"Peachy." He shut the door and made his way quickly down the hall, trying to guess which room might be Yuan's office. If the design of this base were anything like the one in Tethe'alla, he had a good chance of finding it. He swept through the corridors, trying a few doors until he was sure he was at the right one. He told himself to be brave and went inside.

Yuan sat at his desk, reading. He looked up when Lloyd entered the room and removed his spectacles. "Well. You're back. Did you have a good think?"

"Why should I even believe you? Why should I listen to you? You're the one responsible for this whole twisted world."

Yuan sighed. "I am partly culpable, yes. However, I'm the only one that seems to have the fortitude to take responsibility and attempt reparations. Your father couldn't even do that."

"What do you mean?"

"We all turned against Mithos at one time or another. He turned sometime shortly after I did. But for nearly two decades he refused to break the seal on Origin. Hundreds of thousands of people died in those years, at the hands of Desians, in skirmishes, in drought, famine, and other disasters that result from a low mana supply. And he refused to die and let me put the world back together. All because he didn't want to orphan a boy who would probably be better off with no father at all than with a father like him."

Lloyd, struck dumb, tried to think of what to say next. All this—the millennia of Desian slavery, the starvation, the death, the savage ritual of the Chosen, the human sacrifice… all this because of a mistake four people made thousands of years ago. And no one had had the guts to fix it: not his dad, not Mithos himself, not even Yuan, so far. Well, he was the only one left

He stood silently for a few moments, weighing his options, constantly sweeping aside the morality of it all only to have it return and block him from making a decision. He told himself he would do anything to save the world, to save Colette, but how could he trust himself when he had failed so many times?

Yuan seemed to sense the tumult in his brain, and closed the massive tome before him, staring at Lloyd intently. "What do you want, Lloyd?"

Lloyd was taken aback by the sudden question. "What? I want... I want you to answer my questions."

Yuan sighed and closed his eyes. "No, Lloyd, what do you really  _want_? To save the world? To save the Chosen? To save your father?"

 _All of the above, if possible,_  Lloyd thought. "I want to end suffering. End violence."

Yuan just smiled, pensive. "You remind me of him, you know. Mithos, back before… before his madness. He wanted to end all war. Truly a noble goal. That's a lot on your plate, if you want to live up to his name. If you really want to save the world, you're going to have to take on a lot more than just Mithos. You're going to have to stop famine, drought, eliminate prejudice and ignorance, solve every petty squabble over resources—you'd have to change the fundamental nature of humankind. And that's exactly what Mithos is doing, or trying to."

"How?"

"You'd know this if you hadn't run off in a huff." Lloyd rolled his eyes and Yuan continued. "Angels. He's making angels, breeding a race of mindless, soulless beings whose only purpose is to serve him. Careful implementation of exsphere technology makes it possible. He thinks this is the way to end prejudice and violence."

"So is that why you turned against him?" Lloyd asked. "You and dad both?"

"Yes. He was insane. Insane, obsessive, all too powerful, but still absurdly naïve. He's destroyed the very structure of our planet, he's condemned the world to mana depletion, all so he can be with his sister again. He's trying to redesign every human on the planet. Purge their flaws. And if I know one thing, it's that a man obsessed with genetic purity is never good news. Your father turned on him for the same reasons I did, I presume, but I was far subtler about it. I kept in touch with both sides, whereas he disappeared into the wilderness, only reemerging years later with Kvar's pet project for a lover, and a toddler hanging off his arm." Yuan stopped to laugh a little. "You know, a long, long time ago, before either of us ever even considered settling down, Kratos told me he'd make me godfather of any children he had. Well, when you came along, he never did. He had stopped talking to me, to any of us. He never told me about you. He probably figured I'd try to use you against him, but he wasn't completely wrong."

A nagging question itched at the back of Lloyd's mind and he couldn't banish it. He couldn't summon it to his tongue either, for fear of the answer.

"Lloyd," Yuan continued, taking advantage of his silence. "Let me see your hands." Reluctantly, he held them up: one greenish, swollen, almost monstrous with its evil red exsphere, one a little scarred, calloused, but otherwise healthy with its benevolent blue. Yuan examined them from the safety of his desk, with mild interest and milder sympathy. "I was rather pleased to hear about what you did to Kvar. You sure saved me some trouble. Then again, I'm sure it was a delightful experience for you too, knowing what he did to your family."

Lloyd's stomach turned at the thought. The Desian's bloodied, disembodied head, the gashes in him left by countless swings of Flamberge. In truth, Lloyd would've preferred if Yuan had done the job instead of him. That at least would've saved him a few weeks of nightmares.

And still, there was that burning question, the one he had come here originally to ask, the one that would determine whether or not he would be able to kill his own father to liberate the two worlds.

He clenched his fists and finally forced himself to ask it. "Did Kratos do it?"

"Do what?"

"Did he kill my mother?"

Yuan stared at him for a moment. "Yes."

After the initial breath of shock, of hopeful disbelief, a horrible, uncontrollable anger flooded Lloyd. "Why?" He could barely spit out the word.

"I'm not presumptuous enough to guess Kratos' motives. After all, I wasn't there, and Kratos will be damned before he tells anyone about that day. The only remaining witness was Kvar, and you killed him already."

Lloyd clenched his teeth, silent rage stirring. So, Kvar had been right. After all these months of purposefully doubting him, the bastard had been right all along. It took every ounce of Lloyd's being not to scream. "I'll do it."

"What?"

"I'll kill him. I'll help you release the seal."

"Are you sure?"

Lloyd's breath came ragged and tortured, but he told himself to press onward. For the sake of Colette, for the sake of the entire world, and for his mother. "Yes. I'll do it."

Yuan grinned. "Why should I believe you? You're his son. What sort of son could kill his own father?"

Lloyd couldn't stop the horrifying rage, spreading from his malignant exsphere outward. He told it to stop, to go back inside the little stone and leave him be, but it took over his mouth before he could stop it. "My mother is dead because of him. Countless people are dead because of him. Colette is sick because of him. The entire world is sick because of him." He clenched his fist at his side, pain radiating up his arm. "I'll kill him. I swear to you I'll do it."

Yuan raised an eyebrow. "Well then. We have some work ahead of us." Yuan stood and reached behind his desk. "You left this here last time. I didn't give it back because you seemed like you were in quite a hurry to leave." He produced Flamberge and handed it over to Lloyd.

He took it, unsure of what to say. "When will we…"

"We need to make preparations. It will be a few days, at least. Think long and hard about what you want to do. But remember, if you back out, you're condemning the entire world." Lloyd turned to go, nodding briefly. He didn't want to think about it. He made for Yuan's office door, but stopped to listen to the half-elf's last command. "And Lloyd. Don't let that exsphere kill you before you finish the job."

Lloyd glanced at Yuan as the office door slid closed, and found himself staring at it for a few more seconds before he turned and walked down the hall. He had encountered this kind of sentiment too many times before.

 _If I die, and I will die, I must die usefully,_  he told himself.  _For everyone_. But his father's sound advice from so many years ago came to his head:  _That's how people are, Lloyd, that's what they do. They use you until you're no good to them anymore. Then they toss you._

That's how it was at the ranch, that's how it was here. That's how it was everywhere—the worth of a human being was contingent on utility.

 _No. No, dad. You're wrong,_  he told himself. _I'm not being used. I do this because I want to._

He wasn't sure. He was never sure. No matter how earnestly he groped at the truth, it always escaped him. He figured he would die without certainty of anything, and he didn't know if he could bring himself to accept that. Everything he told himself only sounded like desperate justification, a last refuge for the utterly incorrect. But if he  _was_  incorrect, if everything he had worked for was worth nothing, if everything he did would only make things worse, there wasn't much he could do about it now. He was in too deep.

Lloyd clutched Flamberge like a drowning man clutching a buoy. He grit his teeth as he made his way down the halls, down the stairs and to the ground floor. Suddenly the entire base felt like a smothering death-trap, a box of stale air. He couldn't breathe here.

He practically sprinted to the base's entrance and out into the desert, only to find the sun already slipping behind the farthest dunes. He walked as far into the wilderness as he dared, and seated himself on the cooling sand. He lay Flamberge beside him, crossed his legs, and stared into the sky.

Curse his family. Curse their luck. It must be something in their blood, something horrible one of their ancestors had done long ago. It must be his father, racking up the bad karma over four thousand years of desperation and warfare. He wondered if all the angry souls his father had killed over the years were now seeking revenge for their untimely deaths. He stared at his red exsphere, cursing Kvar, his father, his mother. The exsphere responded to his stress by throbbing with light and sending pulses of pain down his arm. He could almost see the skin around it ripple, veins bulging. He instinctively knew that even with Dirk's key crest, he didn't have much time left.

If he was going to die, he might as well take his father down with him and save the world while he was at it. He wondered if he could really do it. He suddenly found himself dreading the idea, although a younger version of him might've jumped at the opportunity. He and his father had been at each other's throats for years now, so it wouldn't have surprised him to learn that they would one day actually try to kill each other.

He reached into his shirt and pulled out the rusty locket. It looked neglected and shabby without its silver chain, and he was almost afraid of what he would find in it. He forced himself to pry it open anyway, and stared at the faded picture inside. There he was, a happy boy, plump and wide-eyed, and there was his mother, with a kind smile and intelligent eyes, and with a hand on her shoulder… just looking at his father's face made him grit his teeth.

"Is that you?"

Lloyd jumped and glanced behind him to see Colette, smiling as usual. He relaxed and looked back at the picture. She sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You were a fat baby," she said, laughing.

"Yeah. I was."

"Is that your mother?"

"Yeah."

"She's beautiful."

Lloyd sighed. "You know, I never could remember what she looked like. And this is the only picture I have of her."

"Do you remember anything?"

"Just that… when I look at her, I remember being afraid. Not of her, but for her. I think that somewhere in me I remember what my father did to her, and it still scares me."

"Lloyd…"

"Oi! Lloyd!" A voice that was certainly not Colette's flew over the dunes and into his ears. He stood, hiding the locket. He turned to see Zelos, piggybacking Sheena across the sand. "Yo!"

 _Why did everyone have to follow me outside?_ he thought. "What do you want?" he asked irritably.

"We were just going into Triet to see if we can find some tequila. Sheena needs it."

"I don't know why he's carrying me," Sheena sighed. "I can walk, you know."

"Whatever, honey. You're gonna need me to carry you a lot more after we find that tequila."

"Ugh, just get on with it. I'm too sore for this."

"You coming?" Zelos asked Lloyd. His expression darkened. "You look like you could use some."

"I'm good," Lloyd said. "Colette, how about you?"

"Sounds fun, but I—"

"Come on, don't be such a wet blanket," Zelos said. "You need to have more fun."

"Well… I suppose I could…"

"Go on, Colette," Lloyd nudged her. "I'll be here when you get back."

"Okay. I'll see you later, Lloyd." She followed their sandy footsteps, glancing over her shoulder once before disappearing over the crest of the nearest dune.

*

Raine's hands were gentle, as usual, but that did not mitigate the pain. The skin around Lloyd's exsphere protested at every movement, cracking and peeling almost as if in response to her examination. Every once in a while she'd fall silent, jotting notes down in her book. The lights of the base's medical wing buzzed coldly above them.

"It's getting worse," she said. "Is it sore?"

"Yeah. It doesn't exactly feel great."

"If you weren't in such compromising situations all the time, I don't think it would be advancing this fast. Perhaps you should take a break."

"Are you kidding, prof?"

Raine shook her head. "I wish I could tell you to take it easy. But I know you can't. None of us can. I know I'm not known for sugar-coating things, but I'll be blunt. You need to do what you need to do, soon. Get done what you need to get done before this thing kills you. That's all I can say." She turned away from him, and he swore for a moment that he could almost see a wet sheen over her eyes.

"Raine…" he said.

"I'm sorry, Lloyd. I truly am. Thank you for letting me document your condition." She stood up.

Lloyd reached out to her, but she was already halfway to the door. "Wait," he said. "Don't tell Colette. Please."

Raine shook her head. "I don't think you'd be able to hide this from her. She probably already knows you're close to the end. She's sensitive like that." She paused a moment. "But if you want, I won't mention it."

"And don't tell Genis, either."

"Of course I won't."

"Thanks, professor."

She stood in the doorway for a few long seconds, then turned to him. "After what the Desians did to you, I was worried that you would hate us—Genis and me—knowing what we are. I'm so grateful you don't. The world needs more people like you." She lowered her gaze, as if thinking hard about what to say next. "So, for our sake, try to live as long as you can."

Lloyd smiled weakly. "I will."


	24. At the End of Everything

The next few days passed in a blur. Indistinguishable Renegade soldiers crawled through the halls like termites in a mound, carrying equipment, hollering at one another, always in a hurry. The base was buzzing with activity, most of which didn't involve Lloyd. They usually just stuck him in the back and gave him menial tasks, like repairing rheiards and guns, or cleaning armor. He worked his shifts in silence—all the others had been assigned to different tasks, which suited magic, healing, summoning, or abilities of a Chosen. Lloyd was the only one with no special skills, so he spent the days alone, bored, ignorant of the plans being made around him. When Yuan called him into his office, he almost sighed in relief—at last it seemed he might be able to take  _some_  small part in the operation.

When he arrived at the office, he found that he was not alone. He and about a dozen other soldiers and technicians had gathered in the room, and to Lloyd's relief, he saw his friends among them. Yuan hovered over a few papers, fully armored.

"We will be splitting up at this juncture," Yuan said. "I will be securing the mana cannon, and I'll be taking the summoner with me. We will use her two spirits to do a test run on the cannon, once we wrestle it from the Desians. Units four and three will be coming with me. We're going to keep things small, and hopefully, unnoticeable."

Sheena nodded. She had recovered miraculously quickly—a fact that Lloyd attributed to Raine's superior healing skills, and that Zelos attributed to tequila.

"The rest of you will make your way to Derris-Kharlan and destroy the seal. My second-in-command will accompany you up the Tower to Welgaia. You will have two hundred troops with you, both for diversionary purposes and backup, and all have orders to kill Kratos on sight. That includes you." Yuan's eyes settled on Lloyd, and he nodded.

"So. You have two hours to get yourself ready and meet Botta in the hangar. He will take you to the Tower. Whatever you do, follow his lead. He knows what he's doing. Any questions you have you can direct to him on the way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a mana cannon to find and a Desian Cardinal to murder. Good luck." He rose and donned a shadowy helmet. He strode toward the door but turned around before exiting. "And Lloyd."

"Yeah?"

"Don't screw up."

With that, Yuan swept down the hall with his two factions. He disappeared into the shadows, leaving Lloyd and the others to prepare themselves.

At the appointed time, they found Botta waiting in the rheiard bay, ready for action. He addressed the gathering soldiers, and Lloyd pushed his way to the front. He, Genis and Raine were all assigned to the same unit. Colette was ordered to stay at the base, since sending her to Derris-Kharlan would practically be delivering her into the hands of Cruxis. Zelos had opted to accompany Sheena—"You know, just in case she gets outta hand."

"Now that you're all here, let's run through some things." Botta had a voice that carried across the hangar with such authority that the hum of chatting soldiers shut off like a light. "Each of your squadrons will receive instructions from its commanding officer. Emergency procedures, rendezvous points, and the like will all be covered. I will be taking a small detachment to the objective point. The rest of you are either accompanying the primary division or have your own assignment. Remember: stick with your unit. The chances of us all getting out alive are minuscule to begin with; if you find yourself alone, that probability rapidly approaches zero. Perform flawlessly, obey your superiors, and you will survive. Make every action count."

A grim but determined silence hovered over the bay as the soldiers geared up and prepared themselves. Echoing around the hangar were the sounds of clinking armor and sputtering motors, but no conversation.

The closer Lloyd got to the moment of embarkation, the more he regretted that the Sage siblings had to come along. He didn't know if they had volunteered or if Yuan had pushed them into it somehow, but he didn't want to think of them getting hurt.

As if sensing his distress, Genis elbowed him. "Hey. We can take care of ourselves, you know. You don't have to get protective all of a sudden."

"I know," Lloyd said. "Sorry. But I can't help it."

"You dummy," Genis replied. "It's you that we're all worried about. But if anything happens to you, I'll save you."

"And I will certainly help." Raine didn't seem to like being excluded from the conversation. "What will my pedagogical record look like if I just let my students die on me?"

"Glad to see your motivations are noble," Genis muttered.

"I would box your ears, but I'm afraid smacking fellow soldiers is largely frowned upon."

"And smacking your brother isn't?"

"Oddly, no."

Lloyd smiled mirthlessly, just happy that he had some backup. He tightened his gauntlets, focusing on his own armor, but Raine interrupted him once again, one hand on his shoulder. "Lloyd," she started. "Are you sure you can do this? It's perfectly understandable if you want to stay behind."

"No," he said. "I have to do this." He pulled up his collar and checked his boots. "Besides, I've been waiting eighteen years to kill my dad."

He tried to laugh, but Raine just looked at him sadly. She shook her head and turned, and he gulped. Maybe he wasn't truly ready for this, maybe…

No. Kratos killed his mother. He'd killed so many people before her, he was responsible for this twisted world. If dying would right the wrongs his father had done, so be it, he would kill him if need be. He would—

A familiar hand found his, and he turned to see an unfamiliar person. A heavily-armored but smallish Renegade soldier stood beside him, gripping his palm. He almost pulled away, until he saw a bright blue eye wink at him under the mask. He released one of his fingers from the soldier's grip and began to write in her palm, arms still hanging beside them so no one would suspect what they were doing.

BRAVE, he wrote.

Let me come.

He hesitated for a brief moment, trying to quell the voices inside him that popped up with "It's too dangerous" and "You'll be killed" and "Stay here." He knew she would follow him anyway. Maybe she suffered from the same sort of strength of will that he did, the kind of determination that only came with the knowledge that one's time was running out. And, of course, he knew this was her choice.

She squeezed his hand and let go, just in time for Botta to materialize beside them. "All right. All of you. Follow me and load up." He led them to a couple rheiards at the edge of the bay. "You're going to obey every order I give without hesitation. You're not going to attempt any self-sacrificing heroics. And for the love of all that is good, you're going to stick together."

"Yessir," Soldier Colette said a little too eagerly.

Botta sighed and donned his helmet. "Let's go. And try not to die."

*

The Tower of Salvation was, as usual, eerily silent. The only sound echoing in the blue-green abyss of the building was the clink of Renegade boots, and Lloyd's own tortured heartbeat as he followed Botta to the altar. He looked around, squinting at the endless blue, to the portal beyond the altar, but couldn't see any guards, angles, monsters, traps… nothing. It was all going remarkably well so far—though "so far" only encompassed the ride over and entering the Tower.

"I'll go in first," Botta said quietly. In the unnatural silence of the building, his whisper sounded like a booming shout. Lloyd almost flinched at the noise. "You follow closely. Don't get lost." The Renegade commander stepped into the pillar of light and disappeared.

The next few soldiers followed him through, and as Lloyd stepped up onto the altar, his heart rose into his throat. For some reason, he thought he had to hold his breath as he went inside, like submerging himself in water. His lungs tightened and his skin prickled as the light swallowed him, and he found himself reaching up to pinch his nostrils together, as if waiting for the submersion. But the journey only felt like a douse of warm mist, and he was just about to enjoy it when the portal spat him back out.

He took a breath, opened his eyes, and released his nose. He stumbled back to his feet, eyes wide, taking in his surroundings. He seemed to be in a massive atrium, beyond whose large, curved windows he saw a vast sea of stars. Metallic pillars supported an enormous, clear ceiling, barely tall enough to enclose dozens of silver buildings, all glowing with a strange light. Lloyd wondered if this was a city—he couldn't think of any other word for it.

A few human figures, slow-moving and eerie, floated on the other side of the atrium. Lloyd widened his stance and drew his sword, half expecting them to rush him.

Botta shoved Lloyd's hand, forcing the blade back into its scabbard. "These angels are mindless. Lifeless. They pose no threat. Leave them be."

"Why are they here?" Raine asked quietly.

"They are just victims of Yggdrasill's grand scheme to end prejudice. If he gets his way, we'll all end up like this. Indistinguishable, soulless drones."

"That's… terrifying," Raine said.

Botta didn't reply. He just led them down what might've been a street, under an arch of starlight. Angels floated above them, doing nothing, being nothing, empty eyes staring into space.  _They're just like Colette used to be_ , Lloyd said to himself. He looked over at her, and even though her face was enshrouded in metal and shadow, he could sense she was thinking the same thing.

They had almost made it to the end of the street when the clanging of bells turned all of their eyes upward. White figures rose above the skyline, making for them in startlingly perfect formation. The wave of wings and weapons crashed over the tips of the buildings, and the Renegades readied themselves for the assault, raising weapons and shouting commands.

" _Those_  are the angels that pose a threat," Botta said. "Quickly, follow me."

"We can't just leave the others!" Lloyd said.

"This is their  _job_ , boy! Now follow me."

Botta's soldiers swept him up in a rush, leaving the majority of the forces behind to fend off the onslaught. Shouts and the clang of weapons rang out behind him as he stumbled down the street in the wave of soldiers, desperately trying to regain his footing. By the time he did, Botta's small contingent had stopped in front of a dingy, precarious-looking door.

"This is it," Botta said, and led them inside. They went in one by one: first Genis, then Colette and a few other helmeted Renegades, then Raine, and finally Lloyd. By the time he had one leg inside, the sounds of carnage had swept through the whole city. Guns fired, whips cracked, swords and spears rang with violent notes—Lloyd could not help but take one last glance at the city street, now full of Renegade soldiers, falling, fighting, shouting. He twitched, wishing that he could run in and help them, but Botta commanded him to close the door. He did, leaving the sounds of slaughter behind him.

The dim corridor was rickety and smelled like trash. To his left and right stood piles of scrap metal, plastic tubing and other electronic waste. Rusted corpses of once-proud machines lay scattered about the halls, slowly decaying. Wires and corroded tubing ran along the ceiling, frayed and occasionally spewing a stray spark. Lloyd figured it was something like the city's garbage conduit, where worn-out technology came to die. It almost saddened him, to see the weak eyes of half-dead machinery wink at him from the shadows.

The dust was so thick and the lights so dim that Lloyd didn't see one of the apparatuses come to life behind him. It rose slowly, whirring itself upright, and hovered a few feet off the ground. It clicked quietly, engaging its targeting laser, and centered its guns on him.

"Security dro—"

Botta didn't finish his warning before the drone fired. Lloyd sprang aside, reaching for his sword, but not before a bullet clipped his shoulder. He gasped, flying into the wall, and the drone followed him, firing rapidly. He stumbled sideways to escape, waving his arms, and tumbled to the ground just in time to meet a shower of bullets.

He threw up his arms instinctively, as if that could possibly save him. Somewhere beyond the dust and the shrieking of the drone's rusted machinery, he heard the frantic voices of his companions. He called back, but not before the floor around him was sufficiently riddled with holes that it began to sag. Deafened by the drumming of the shots and blinded by his own fear, he had no time to register the creaking floor give way below him. The next few seconds were blurry, painful, disorienting and stomach-churning. He was briefly weightless, breathless, tumbling downward, cloaked in a thick cloud of dust and debris.

He landed on his back. The impact knocked the wind from him, and he barely had time to dodge the cascade of detritus that came tumbling down after him. Somewhere above him and to his left, through the wall of garbage, he heard muffled gunfire and the shouts of his companions. He struggled to his feet, trying to make out where he had fallen from, but he couldn't see through the clouds of dust and debris. He seemed to be in a dark hallway, narrow, more cluttered than the one he'd just fallen from. When he saw that there were no hostile machines on his level, he took a deep breath. He briefly examined himself for injuries—a few clips here and there, but his shoulder seemed to be the worst of it. No wonder that drone was in the trash pile; obviously its targeting system was horribly dysfunctional. As the noises above him quieted, he tried to find a way back up, but he could only see one way to go. He turned away from the collapsed pile of steel and wires and stumbled down the hall, clutching his bleeding wound.

He had to find a path upward, a stairwell, something. His mind turned over itself frantically, telling him to go find the others, make sure they were all right—and, of course, Botta's warning still echoed inside his head: the longer he stayed alone in this place, the lower his chances of survival.

_I promised Raine I'd live, at least for a while_ , Lloyd thought.  _So I've got an obligation to find everyone again._  He sped down the hall, dripping blood, but otherwise unimpeded. He seemed to be alone in the tiny corridor, with no human or mechanical company. He was grateful for it, but it was also strangely unnerving, being in a facility this large but finding himself suddenly alone. Everything seemed cold and somehow muffled—he could only hear his own staggered breath and frantic heartbeat in this isolated hall.

Eventually he stumbled upon a door. It lay conspicuously at the very end of the corridor, bent and filthy. It seemed to be the only way out, and seemed like it might, if he was lucky, lead to a staircase. It looked like it had been closed for so long it had rusted shut, but Lloyd had nowhere else to go, so he leaned against it and pushed. It opened surprisingly easily, and he stepped inside.

What he saw in the tiny storage room brought him to his knees. Pinned to the far wall, arms spread as if in supplication, still as death and covered in blood, was his father. From his sides and arms emerged thin tubing, which fed into a glowing apparatus on the floor. His chest did not move, his grayish eyelids were closed.

Lloyd covered his mouth before he could cry out.  _He's dead,_ he told himself.  _I'm too late and he's already dead._

He struggled to rise. He stumbled on shaking legs toward the suspended man, telling himself that it was a mercy, that it was better this way.  _He's dead,_ Lloyd repeated frantically in his head,  _he's dead, he's gone. I don't have to kill him, I don't have to. I don't have to… please, please don't be dead. Please._

He forced himself to approach his father. Kratos remained unresponsive, but when Lloyd lay a finger to his neck, he could feel the barest, slowest tremblings of a heartbeat. Somehow, even in this state, Kratos still clung to life. Lloyd looked over the strange wires, the straps that kept his father tied to the wall, the metallic body of the beeping machine. On the apparatus' screen, a blue bar glowed, surrounded by columns of writing Lloyd could not read. He wondered if this machine was the only thing keeping his dad alive—or if it was what was killing him.

He could take his chances. He could destroy the apparatus, and if Kratos died with it, he would've fulfilled his mission. And if Kratos lived…

He raised his sword and thrust it through the screen. Sparks flew, lights flashed, an alarm sounded. Lloyd panicked and smashed down again on the monitor, hacking and slicing, until the screeches stopped and the machine sputtered into death.

Panting, he went back to the wall to examine his dad. Still alive. So he began the harrowing process of cutting him down. He hacked at the tubing and the plastic restraints, all the while avoiding Kratos' broken, pale skin. He told himself over and over to just stab him, to just pierce his heart and be done with it, save the world, save Colette, just  _kill him_.

Kratos' limp body fell away from the wall and onto Lloyd, blood dripping from his punctures. He caught him under the armpits and slowly lowered him to the floor. A shallow pool of dark blood grew under both of them, trickling across the tile.

Lloyd knelt, sword ready. He placed the tip of Flamberge at his father's throat, heart racing, head throbbing. His arms shook, his veins burning with the agonized power of both his exspheres. The left one pulsated eagerly, sending a flame of hatred down his arm, telling to do it, that Kratos killed his mother, he's killed more people than anyone can count, it's only just, it's only fair, it's what he deserves. The other one jolted down his right arm, telling it to hold back, to wait.

The pain was unbearable. Lloyd shifted the sword from Kratos' face, to his heart, to his neck. He was undecided on whether he should run him through or slit his throat—which would be faster, which would be more merciful, which way would be more poetic, which way had the bastard murdered his lover, the mother of his only child?

Lloyd gripped the hilt of his sword so tight it hurt. He lay the blade along his father's throat and steeled himself for the rush of blood.

Kratos' eyes opened. His lids barely parted, but Lloyd could see his dull brown irises beneath the caked blood. They were empty, exhausted, and Lloyd couldn't tell if his father understood what was happening. He wondered if Kratos even recognized him, or if he was cognizant enough to realize that his own son was about to murder him.

His eyes wandered slowly from the tip of Flamberge to the hilt, clutched desperately in Lloyd's hands, and he seemed to piece together the picture. He raised a thin hand and placed it on Lloyd's knee. "So…" he muttered feebly. His cracked lips parted in a slight, weak smile. "Better you… than Mithos…" He closed his eyes and lifted his chin, as if inviting Lloyd to draw the sword across his throat.

Lloyd's hands shook so hard he couldn't steady the blade. He couldn't get a good grip on the hilt, he couldn't lower it to skin, he couldn't cut, couldn't… he just couldn't. Even for Colette, even for the entire world, he couldn't do it.

He dropped Flamberge and it clanged to a halt by his feet. He wrapped his arms around his father and drew him upward, laying his back across his knee. He took Kratos' limp head in his hand and hugged it to his shoulder. He buried his face into his father's bloodied hair, and couldn't stop the sob from bursting from his throat. He rocked slightly back and forth, cradling Kratos, shaking, unable to make himself move.

"I'm sorry," he tried to say, but it only came out as a squeak. He was too weak, to weak to do anything, to follow through, to stay true to his convictions. He could only cling desperately to the very man he hated most, the one who had killed his mother and destroyed the world.

"Weak," he sobbed to himself. "I'm weak. I'm so sorry..." Kratos didn't reply, only lay limp in his arms, a slight, unconscious frown on his face, as if disappointed that Lloyd couldn't muster the guts to kill him.

"Well, that was an amusing spectacle."

A chilly, eerily young voice echoed through the room. Lloyd looked up, thinking that perhaps Genis had found him, but the boy he saw was unfamiliar to him. Slender and blond, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "But it was a little dramatic for my taste."

Lloyd lay his father down and picked up his sword, standing slowly. "Who are you?"

The boy tossed aside his shaggy hair and smiled coldly. Lloyd thought he recognized that cruel grin. "You know me. You know me well. We've met before. I'm… sort of like your brother. You know, we're both trying to save Kratos. Save the world."

Lloyd gripped Flamberge with both hands and stepped over his father's limp form. Abruptly he realized that he had stumbled upon the real Yggdrasill, the twisted ghost of the great hero, Mithos.

He could end it here. He could run him through and end the age of the two-world system and all its savagery. He could strike the Desians at their heart and destroy the man who had split the world, the man who had condemned so many people to suffer.

He screamed and lunged at Mithos, only to cut through air. The boy stepped to the side, laughing. Lloyd swung again, anger rushing through him. His exspheres burned, his injured shoulder throbbed, his hands were slippery with blood. He knew he was in no state to take down an ancient and powerful hero.

So it was no surprise that it ended like it did, and that it ended as quickly as it did. Mithos turned, arm outstretched, and after a devastating blow to Lloyd's throat, plucked Flamberge from his hand. In one motion the hero kicked the back of his knees, turned, and lay the sword across his neck. Lloyd froze, empty-handed. The cold steel at his throat told him if he made a move he was finished.

"You know, Kratos," Mithos started. Lloyd could see his father's arm twitch slightly, and he struggled to make himself stay still, to not run over to him. "After the whole bloody mess of the War, my biggest hope was that we could all find someplace nice to live. You, me, Martel… We could find someplace green. Someplace in the mountains. And be a family."

Lloyd could see Kratos try to sit up, shaking desperately. Slowly, with incredible effort, he managed to prop himself up on one elbow. His head still dangled limply, too heavy to lift.

"But you'd have none of that," Mithos hissed, switching from pensive to bitter in the course of a blink. Lloyd felt the sword press harder against his throat, and he tried not to move. "You had to go be with your own kind, didn't you? You couldn't stand us half-breeds. We weren't good enough. I guess even after all those years with us, all the struggles and the triumphs, you were just like all other humans. Ignorant, prejudiced, hateful." Mithos grabbed Lloyd's hair and tugged at it, forcing his chin upward and giving his father a clear view of his throat. "But we can leave your troubled past behind. I want you to watch this, Kratos. I'm going to relieve you of your burdens, I'm going to cleanse your slate, so we can move on." Kratos could barely lift his eyes as Mithos readied Flamberge to draw blood.

_I'm going to die here_ , Lloyd thought. _Even after all this, after everything, I'm going to die right now. I was so close…_

He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, preparing for the worst. But when the pain came, it was not in his throat. It appeared at the top of his head and exploded downward—a burning, electric sensation of magic that sent him spinning. He twisted through the air and landed on his injured shoulder, Flamberge clanging to a halt beside him. He let out a groan and reoriented himself, lifting his head. There was his father, arms outstretched, radiant blue wings blooming like petals from his back, wisps of white light evaporating from the tips of his fingers. And there was Mithos, sprawled against the wall, looking taken aback and clutching at his chest where the brunt of Kratos' spell had hit him.

Lloyd knew his father couldn't stand up for long. He scrambled for Flamberge, stumbling toward the two. While Mithos stood distracted by Kratos' sudden display of energy, Lloyd dashed under his father's arm and thrust the sword upward.

It pierced the tender flesh under Mithos' chin and emerged from the back of his head. Lloyd, sure that he had struck a fatal blow, removed the sword, almost smiling. But instead of blood, only white light radiated from Mithos' wounds. The boy smirked slightly, backing up against the wall. "Pathetic," he whispered, and in a flash of yellow light, disappeared.

Lloyd stood thunderstruck for a moment. He stared at the wall where Mithos had been, cursing, wondering where the bastard had gone, until he heard a dull thump behind him. His father had fallen to the ground, wings rapidly disintegrating.

Lloyd sheathed his sword and dropped beside Kratos, lifting his head into his arms.

"What in hell's name are you, dad?" he whispered.

"Leave… me," was all Kratos could say.

"Don't be stupid. Get up. Get on my back." He put his father's arm around him and trembled to his feet, struggling against the dead weight. His bullet-shot shoulder sent pulses of agony through him, but he managed to limp to the door.

"No… Leave me…" Kratos murmured. "Listen… to me…"

"Shut up, dad." Lloyd nudged the door open with his foot, and squeezed them both into the tiny hall. He didn't know how he would manage to get out of here, with the burden of his father's weight. Not to mention the Renegades' orders to kill Kratos on sight. He thought about what he would do if he came across any of them. Certainly not hand Kratos over, certainly not let them kill him. But he didn't know if he was strong enough to defend his dad at this point, so they would have to make their way to the ground unseen, without help. They had to get out of here alone, with only each other, as it had always been.

"Here we go, dad," Lloyd grunted, sweating. The pain in his shoulder intensified as he struggled down the hall. "It's just you and me. Like always. Just going on a trip for the holiday." He muttered nonsense through the dust, trying to motivate himself, trying to keep his father conscious. He knew that they both had lost a lot of blood, but if they could make it back to the ground and find help, they might be able to survive. "We're going to go find Noishe. He's coming too."

Kratos failed to respond. Lloyd didn't know whether he was unconscious or dead—he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He focused only on trudging down the hall, putting one foot in front of the other, slowly, slowly making his way to freedom. His legs shook, his tender shoulder was killing him, and Kratos seemed to get heavier with every step. Blood dripped down Lloyd's legs and pooled under his feet, and with each shaky footstep he left a dark smear behind him. He huffed, trying to tell himself to keep going, to just keep up the rhythm…

But he was too weak. His foot slipped on a puddle of blood and he stumbled, falling to the floor and dropping his father.

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, panting, watching blood from his shoulder drip onto the floor. He tried to get up, tried to force his legs to work, but the sheer weight of exhaustion held him down. He looked over at Kratos' limp form and his heart sank. "I'm sorry, dad," he whispered. Suddenly, without warning, he had to resist the macabre urge to laugh. "I think we're gonna die here."

His father said nothing. He lay facedown on the floor, unmoving. Lloyd couldn't tell if he was breathing, so he just crawled to his side and collapsed releasing a painful, exhausted sigh. He took his father's hand in his own, clasping at bloody fingers. He knew it wouldn't take long now, not with both of them so weak, so drained. And when they fell asleep, everything would be okay, everything would go back to normal. Better than normal. He would beat his exsphere to the punch, then the pain, the fear would stop. He would have his mother back, they could all be together again...

He was almost looking forward to it. He turned, rested his forehead against his father's unmoving shoulder, and smiled slightly. He felt warm, lazy, as if all he had to do was patiently bleed, so he closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.


	25. Sleep

"Lloyd! What in the world do you think you're doing?" Lloyd thought it might be the voice of his mother, but when he opened his eyes, he saw only Raine, dirt smeared across her face, blood dripping from her lower lip. He squinted at her, trying to make sure she was real. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" she practically screamed at him, lowering her hands to his shoulder.

A comforting warmth spread from her fingers into his blood, and his fragmented mind began to piece itself back together. The pain receded, and Raine's healing energy flooded his veins, coaxing him back into consciousness. Slowly, painfully, he came to realize he was still alive.

"Shit," he muttered. He sat up too quickly, suddenly remembering he had a father to rescue. He pushed Raine away and bent under Kratos, lightheaded and weak. He managed to drag the man to his feet, but shook under the weight.

"Your wound, Lloyd!" Raine said. "Put him down, you'll only injure yourself further. He's the one we're supposed to kill, remember?" Genis emerged behind her, similarly filthy but seemingly unharmed.

"Where is everyone?" Lloyd asked, heart dropping. "Is it just you two?"

"Yeah, and this poorly-disguised girl," Genis said as Colette, now without her helmet, appeared from the dusty shadows. Lloyd breathed a sigh of relief, but it was cut short by Raine's insistence that they make short work of his debilitated father.

"Put him down, Lloyd," she said. "You know what we have to do. If you want... I can do it so you don't need to."

"No!" he hissed furiously. "There's another way. There has to be."

Raine backed off, frowning at his sudden display of ferocity. "I'm sorry. But you know as well as I do what we need to do."

Lloyd looked at her. "I can't believe you…" he started, but when he glanced into her eyes, he saw that familiar look on her face, the look that told him she only thought of the far future, of what was ultimately best for everyone. It was so like Raine. Unfeeling, splendid Raine, who always did what she must, who could face consequences, so unlike Lloyd, who hopelessly scrambled to save everyone. He knew he would regret it, but he would defend Kratos from her if need be. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Just give us a while," he said desperately. "We'll figure something out."

And then Colette was there, beside him, lifting Kratos' other arm over her shoulder. She gave him a tired smile, pulling most of Kratos' weight onto her uncannily strong shoulders. "Don't push yourself. I'll help you with him."

"Colette," Raine started. "You—"

"I believe you, Lloyd," Colette said, loudly, determined look on her face. "I believe you, and I think we can find another way. We can always find another way."

Lloyd managed a weak, grateful smile. "Th… thank you."

"Do you even  _hear_  yourselves?" Raine said, exasperated.

"Raine," Genis started quietly. "We found a way to save Colette. We can find a way to save him, too."

She put a hand to her forehead and sighed. "I should've known it would come to this. Assassination really isn't your style. But if Genis and the Chosen wish it, then… I'll choose to trust you. Just this once." She retained her look of frustration and disdain but Lloyd thought he could see relief creep into her features.

She and Genis took the lead as Lloyd and Colette dragged Kratos down the hall, leaving a thin trail of blood. "Where's Botta?" Lloyd panted.

Colette looked at the ground, frowning. "He's… gone. After you fell through the floor, more of those security drones showed up. He and the others in our unit led them away, telling us to go find you."

"In all likelihood," Raine stated passively, "he's dead. But we don't have time to find out. For now, we should just focus on getting ourselves out of here." Raine tapped her staff, lighting its tip and filling the halls with a supernatural blue glow. "Over here. This looks like some sort of service corridor." She spoke quietly, as if afraid she might disturb the sleeping machines that lined the halls. "This may be a waste disposal facility, in which case there will be an exit. Probably more than one."

"Well, that's good to hear," Lloyd gasped, readjusting his father on his shoulders.

"Just keep quiet and let Genis and me scout out. We'll take care of any danger we find. You and Colette focus on yourselves."

Lloyd didn't know how many hours they wandered through the labyrinthine halls of that rickety facility. Sometime after his legs went numb, he stopped counting his steps. He only focused on putting one foot in front of the other, panting, shaking, occasionally groaning with the effort. Colette, relying on her angelic strength, carried the majority of Kratos' weight. She tried to get Lloyd to let her take the whole burden, but he refused. His dad was his responsibility; he wouldn't let Colette carry him alone.

He ached, he panted, his exspheres burned, his muscles felt like jelly. But he pressed on, telling himself that his pain would end eventually, that there must be an exit somewhere around here… eventually… His eyelids drooped, his feet tripped over themselves, he could barely stand, much less hold his father up, but to his own surprise he kept on going. Just when he thought there was no end to the insane maze of purple and silver metal, he found himself bumping into a relieved-looking Raine.

"We found an exit," she said. "We don't know where it goes, but I suppose we have little choice in the matter."

She and Genis led them to a small, well-used magic rune at the end of a twisted hallway. Its lines and curves were faded with age, but it still emanated a dim, whitish light. Genis hesitated for a moment, staring into the glow. "Well, Martel hates a coward," he chuckled, and stepped inside.

"We'll see you on the other side," Raine said. She took a deep breath and strode in next, her silhouette dissipating into the dusty air.

Lloyd glanced at Colette and she smiled encouragingly. Together they limped forward, balancing Kratos between them. When the entered the soft glow of the portal, Lloyd felt the ground fall away from his feet, and for a moment everything became soft, light. The weight of his father's body rose from his shoulders, quickly followed by his own weight. For a wonderful second, he had been swept up in a gentle, massless wind.

Stepping out of the other side of the portal left him heavier than ever before. He nearly collapsed when his father's body fell on his shoulders again, but somehow he managed to keep standing, legs shaking unsteadily. He looks down at his feet, wheezing, and saw he was standing on a pile of rough, volcanic stone. He looked around, at Colette, Genis, and Raine—all unharmed, all relieved—and then scouted the horizon for any sign of danger. Beyond the current trash heap where they stood, piled high with Derris-Kharlan's debris, Lloyd could see the empty wilderness. Mountains and mountains rose around them, reaching for the endless blue sky.

"It looks like we're near Hima," Raine said. "Yes... there's the road, way down there." She pointed down the slope. "We should carry Kratos to a bed. And then... then I have my work cut out for me."

*

The sun was still high when they reached the town. The roads were clear, and although there were still a few shabby tents pitched here and there, most of the refugees from the Asgard ranch seemed to have moved on from Hima. A few escapees emerged from their lean-tos to watch them limp by, occasionally offering a hand. With help from a few volunteers, they eventually dragged Kratos to the inn, where they found a vacant room and the prospect of rest.

When they finally laid Kratos down on the bed, Lloyd sighed with exhausted relief. He could barely keep his head up and his eyes open, but he hovered behind Raine as she examined his father's injuries.

"These are very interesting puncture wounds," she said. She lifted his arm, counting the red spots across his skin. Most had dried, but a few bled afresh as she poked at them, staining the pristine white sheets. "Did you find him like this?"

Lloyd, quite unable to keep standing, collapsed on a chair in the corner of the room. "He was hooked up to some sort of machine. I don't know what it did."

"Well, considering he's Origin's seal, I would guess that it has something to do with harvesting his mana. The machine might've been there to strengthen the seal, but it's only guesswork. If I had been able to see it, then maybe I would've known."

She turned Kratos on his side and examined his punctured back, running her fingers along his bloodied wounds, whispering to herself. Lloyd saw Kratos twitch in what must've been pain.

"Hey," Lloyd said, lifting his aching head from his hand. "Stop prodding him like that."

Raine glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes narrowing. "Lloyd. Honestly. I am a physician and an educator. If anyone's qualified to  _prod_  him, it's me." She looked back to her patient. "I know you're concerned for him, Lloyd. That's why I think you should probably leave."

"What? No way. What if he wakes up and I'm not here?" Lloyd wasn't sure where this reluctance to leave his father's side had suddenly come from. When he was growing up he had looked for every opportunity to do just that.

"This isn't going to be pretty," Raine continued. "I've a lot of stitching up to do. I think you should find some food and rest up. I'll let you know how he is when I'm done."

"Come on, Lloyd," Colette wrapped her arm around his. "She's right, I think."

Lloyd couldn't really say no to Colette, not when she looked at him like that, so attentively, so kindly. He nodded and let her lead him out into the lobby, where Genis sat at the bar.

Lloyd and Colette seated themselves beside him. "I ordered us some grub. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"Yeah. Me too." Lloyd stared at the wall, forcing his eyes to remain open, but he found he couldn't really think clearly. A mess of fears swirled in his tired head: the specter of his father's outline in that tiny room in Derris-Kharlan, Renegades storming the halls of his mind, a bright, inescapable afterimage of a white-clad boy. He saw Yuan's face, disappointed, angry, he saw the flash of Flamberge, heard the echo of distant bullets.

"Lloyd, are you even listening?" Genis asked.

"Huh? Oh. What?"

Genis shook his head. "Here." He slid a plate of meat toward him, motioning for him to eat. Lloyd shoved some into his mouth, but didn't taste anything. He finished his meal without a word, preferring to let Genis and Colette make conversation. Instead, he stared at the wall, wondering, worrying.

When Colette insisted he lie down, he collapsed on the couch in the lobby. She and Genis hovered over him, blankets in hand.

"Is your shoulder okay?" Genis asked.

"Yeah. It's not bleeding anymore."

Genis shook his head. "You're lucky Raine got the bullet out and stitched up the worst of it. She's gonna get sucked dry if everyone keeps hurting themselves like this." He slid off the stool. "I'll get you something for it. It won't be as good as my sister's, but you gotta work with what you have. She has an emergency to attend to, so you're stuck with me."

"Thanks Genis."

The boy disappeared and returned with a set of small jars, which he stirred and mixed, wrinkling his nose at the smells that wafted from them. Lloyd grunted a little when his friend cleaned his injury, but it had improved markedly after Raine's intervention. He was pretty sure she had saved his life, since he had been so close to giving up, to closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep.

"Ow!" he flinched as Genis rubbed some sort of green goop on his skin.

"This is for the pain. Don't worry, Raine uses it all the time."

"Uh, okay." He let Genis finish his nursing, and by the time the wound was cleaned and wrapped, the pain had dulled and his eyes started to droop again. He almost felt comfortable when sleep took him, and he even managed to escape dreaming. It seemed to him nothing more than the blink of an eye, but when he awoke once more, the inn's lobby glowed red with the setting sun.

Colette hovered over him, smiling. It wouldn't surprise him to learn she had stayed by his side the whole time, watching over him.

"Is Raine done yet?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"How long as it been?"

"About three hours."

"Damn." Lloyd sat up, flinching at the pain. "I want to see him."

"Raine won't let you," Colette sighed. "She's not letting anyone in there."

He yawned, rubbing his eyes. "I guess… I guess I'd better go outside for a bit, then."

"You're not well enough for that. You should rest."

He swung his legs over the side of the couch. "I need fresh air. I feel like I'm suffocating in here."

"Well, all right, but at least let me come with you."

Lloyd smiled at her. Perhaps she was afraid he would try to secretly interrupt Raine's delicate work to see his father. "Sure. Since you don't seem eager to let me out of your sight."

"I'm sorry," she said. "Wait. No, I'm not sorry. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I know. I don't want you to worry." He offered his arm to her, and she took it, though when they walked outside she was the one who supported his weight.

The evening was dry and cool. Some of the refugees had built a fire in what looked like an oil drum, and made themselves busy cooking some stinky, unidentifiable meat over it. Lloyd examined them, scanning for a familiar face, even though he knew that the people he would've recognized were probably dead by now. He searched most of all for the man who had first explained the exsphere manufacturing process to him, the one who had been so happy when he learned that Lloyd had killed Kvar. Lloyd figured he was long gone, and that his search was in vain.

But there he was, frying a clump of meat at the end of a stick. He looked frail, starving, even pestilent in the dim light, as if his exsphere could be contagious. Lloyd strode toward him anyway, Colette in tow, and when the man looked up, he smiled.

"You again, kid! And it looks like the Chosen's with you." As he bowed, he coughed into his hand, and it came away bloody. He wiped it on his trousers and continued frying his dinner.

"You're… surviving," Lloyd smiled sadly at him.

"I do my best. And you, look at you…" The man glanced at Lloyd's exsphere and gasped at its tremendous progress. "Holy shit, kid. What have you been doing to yourself? Even with a crest, that thing is growing like a weed! Take it easy or you'll die before I do."

"I don't plan on it," Lloyd said. He hoped his optimistic smile hid his sinking heart. Every day was one day closer to the end. He wondered if Colette would be all right without him, how long she would last with her disease spreading as rapidly as it was. And his father… what would his father say? How mad would he be when he found out that Lloyd had gotten himself caught and murdered by Kvar? Even after all those cautious, tedious years of traveling and hiding?

"Well, be sure to take it easy," the man said, examining his dinner. "At least you got a key crest for it. That's a start. You get it from that dwarf?"

"Yeah. He's helped a lot of people from the ranch."

"Good to hear." The man took a bite of his meat, and coughed so hard Lloyd thought his lung might come sliding out his mouth. But he could do nothing for the man but watch, unconsciously toying with his exsphere.

"Are you… are you all right?" he said uselessly.

The man half-laughed, half-coughed. "You're a funny one, aren't you? Be sure to take care of yourself, kid." The man coughed into his hand again, shaking and hacking for a full minute. "I'll… I'll see you around."

When Lloyd and Colette approached the inn again, she hung her head. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Even still… after all this time, after I survived the Regeneration, I still can't save anyone. Not him. Not you. No one."

"Colette…" He led her to the inn's porch and took her shoulders in his hands. "I think you should get some rest."

"You want to be left alone, don't you?"

"Well…"

"All right, Lloyd. But don't go in and bother Raine while she's at work."

"I won't."

He kissed her goodnight, and she retreated into the building. When she was gone, Lloyd turned and watched the stars crawl slowly by.

*

"Son, what are you doing?"

Lloyd had not heard his father creep up on him. He jumped, trying to hide his project, but he was small, clumsy, and it fell from his arms onto the rocky riverside. It tumbled across the stones, a pathetic mess of woven weeds and gathered sticks.

"What in the world is that?"

"It's a…" Lloyd turned red, embarrassed at his horrid craftsmanship. "It's a boat."

"For whom?"

"For me."

"Lloyd. That's much too small for you."

"I know. I didn't have enough sticks." He collapsed at the riverside, hugging his knees and staring into the water.

"Why do you need a boat?" Kratos asked, sitting beside him.

Lloyd watched the shadows of trees dance as the sun disappeared behind them. The first star of evening glinted above. "Because," he said, "I can't be a pirate without a boat."

"Why do you want to be a pirate?"

"So I can sail the world. I can go wherever I want. I can find out where mom went and bring her back."

His father sighed and wrapped an arm around his tiny shoulders. "Lloyd, you have to be a little taller to be a pirate."

"Why?" he asked, tears welling up in his eyes. He had wasted so much time already, staying on land, following his dad wherever he went, when he could be out there, searching. His father squeezed his shoulders, and for some reason that just wrung the tears from his eyes.

"Look up there," Kratos said, pointing to the single star glinting in the distance. "That's the bow of an ancient pirate ship. In a little while, a few more stars will appear beside it—that's the figurehead. She was the captain, until an evil witch turned her to wood. So her loyal crew lay her wooden body on the front of the ship, so she would still lead them across the water, ever fearless."

Lloyd sniffed and rubbed his eyes, holding in his sobs.

"When the Kharlan War came, the boat was so famed for its speed and firepower, it was recruited to join a naval force of a thousand ships. The crew was paid generously, of course, but they couldn't just pillage and loot as usual, since they had to have a commanding officer aboard to relay orders."

Lloyd didn't quite get it, but it sounded interesting. "Who was the crew?" he asked.

"Well, there was Dogan, the famed pirate, and his six brothers. There was Captain Deimos and his fierce daughter, there was Hakim, Alfred, Samuel, and one they just called the Skinner. There was Enos the Bloody, who could shoot a cannonball into a man's heart from a mile away. And the officer aboard was Kratos, who wielded a sword of flame."

Lloyd gasped, pleased. "He has your name, dad."

"I know."

"Were you named after him? Did you know him?"

Kratos chuckled. "Oh, it was so long ago. Far too long ago for anyone to remember. These are all just old stories."

Lloyd leaned on his father's chest, listening to the susurrations of the river. He looked up at the sky and could just make out the shape of a woman, suspended at the bow of a gargantuan ship, her hands thrust forward as if in encouragement.

"I see it, I see the ship," he said excitedly. "But what's that over there, that one?" Lloyd pointed to a clump of stars twinkling by the horizon.

"Oh. That's a different story. That one isn't about war or adventure. That one's more of a love story."

"Tell it to me."

"All right. Well, there once was a king, and he had five daughters, each more beautiful than the next…"

*

"I'm finished," Raine said, emerging into the lobby and closing the door behind her. "I'm afraid all we can do now is wait." She rubbed her forehead, smearing some blood across it. Purplish fatigue ringed her red eyes, and her pale skin glowed a ghostly grey.

"Jeez, sis, you look terrible," Genis said, getting up to help her. She collapsed on the lobby's empty couch and groaned. "Wait there, I'll go get some water." He scampered off.

"How did it go?" Lloyd dared himself to ask.

"It's hard to say," Raine sighed, closing her eyes. "I couldn't…" She yawned. "His injuries are so bizarre, and his mana… We just need to wait. I did… all I could." By the time Genis returned with a wet cloth and a bucket of water, Raine had passed out.

Lloyd entered the room while Genis set to work caring for his sister. He closed the door behind him and approached Kratos. The man lay motionless on the bed, breath shallow, skin paler than usual. He lay on his back, chest and arms cleanly bandaged. He didn't show any signs of awareness or recovery, but at least he was breathing at all. Lloyd sat on the bed next to him and lay his head over his heart. He heard the steady thump of a heartbeat, agonizingly slow, as usual. He sighed and pulled a chair up beside his father, threw the blanket over him, and began to watch.

He watched for days. He didn't leave his father's side, didn't sleep, only ate when someone came in with a plate of food and practically force-fed him. His companions came and went, equally as likely to be checking on him than on his father. Even Raine seemed more worried about his health than the health of her patient.

"Lloyd, are you all right?" she would always ask before entering the room. She didn't knock, and Lloyd didn't mind. There was nothing exciting going on in there anyway. Just him, watching his father sleep. "How is your exsphere?"

"It's fine. I'm fine."

"You should get some rest," she said. "I can watch him for a while."

"No. It's all right."

"He's not going anywhere, Lloyd. Four thousand years can wear a man out."

"You know…" He paused, and Raine looked at him expectantly. "This is the first time in my life I've ever seen him sleep."

"Really."

"Yeah. When I was a kid, he never even seemed to get tired. I'd try to stay up, to see if he ever slept, but I always failed. Except one time, I remember…" He paused for a moment, trying to recollect. "Yeah, I must've been about six; we were staying at some inn in… Asgard, maybe. I decided that I'd stay up all night if I had to, but I would find out what he did while I slept. So I waited and waited, trying so hard not to fall asleep, but also trying to make it seem like I had. You know, he could always tell if I was awake or not, by the way I breathed, I think. It was so weird. Anyway, after a couple hours I heard him leave the room. I thought I had tricked him into thinking I was asleep, but I'm not so sure anymore. I tried to follow him as quietly as I could, looking in all the places I thought he'd be, and you know where I found him? In the kitchen, on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. It was so weird; my dad, the strongest guy ever, my sorta hero, and here he was, trying to get oil stains off the floor like some scullery maid. It took me years to figure out why, and I think it was because we had no money. He had to do things like that because we wouldn't be able to find a bed otherwise. I never talked to him about it. He was always proud… I didn't want him to know I saw him. I never asked him how he got the money to send me to school, but I have a feeling it wasn't nice work."

"Lloyd." Raine put a hand on his shoulder. "It's a hard life, raising a child on one's own. I'm sure whatever he did, he did for you."

"Yeah. I regret it sometimes."

"Why?"

"Well. I always thought he saw me as more of an inconvenience than anything. Like, he wouldn't even have to be scrubbing those floors if it weren't for me. It's like... I felt like he resented me for it, because after I started school he began to treat me differently. As I got older, he became less and less of a hero and more of a jailer. He always tried to keep me out of things… he'd never tell me what it was he did all year round when I was at school. He wouldn't even tell me why he was taking me where he did in the summertime. Sometimes he'd leave me in Palmacosta for weeks before he showed up, with no explanation. I usually found somewhere to stay, but, I don't know, it would've been nice if he'd told me what was going on. Ever."

"Considering his involvement with Cruxis, I wouldn't blame him."

Lloyd looked up at her, afraid she might be taking his side. "Ever since I was old enough to go to school, he suddenly became a no-show in my life. One of those absent dads the counselors at the Academy always talked about. And when he was around, he was impossible. He wouldn't tell me anything that was going on, and he'd always push me around when I ever got the guts to stand up to him. I hated him, sometimes, I really did."

"Lloyd, you've got to be kidding." Raine sounded frustrated, even angry.

"What?"

"You honestly think that there are any children who don't hate their parents? You honestly think Genis doesn't hate me, at least some of the time? It's a dangerous world, every parent knows that. Especially for you and your father. Especially for Genis and me, being what we are. I  _had_  to be a tyrant. I had to be strict, to be firm, to be cruel and no-fun and obdurate. I've ruined Genis' day a thousand times. I've spanked him, boxed his ears, yelled at him, put him to bed with no dinner, and you know why? Because that's what kept him alive. That's what kept him safe. Safe from harm, safe from prejudice, safe from everything. You're mad at your father for being a tyrant? Well, so what? You're lucky enough to have a father at all. And even though he may have been difficult, at least he didn't abandon you. He spent years watching the world suffer, all because he didn't want to leave you alone. You're more fortunate than you know."

Lloyd, thunderstruck by her tirade, sat speechless in his chair while Raine stormed out the door and closed it violently behind her. He called after her, getting up and following her out the door, through the lobby, past their confused companions, and out into the afternoon light.

Raine held her head, staring at the ground for a few seconds before turning to Lloyd. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have been so harsh."

"Nah." Lloyd wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, if anything. "I do a pretty good job of pissing you off."

She smiled slightly, turned and leaned against the balustrade, staring into the distance. "I guess we all have our own... parental issues to work through."

"It seems to be kinda normal," Lloyd offered, and stood beside her, looking over the small balcony and to the town below.

"I know that sometimes I can be… too blunt. But I only speak harshly with you because despite your poor academic performance, your impetuousness, your insufferable stubbornness, I actually… care about you." She muttered the last three words quietly, as if she were afraid someone might overhear. Lloyd didn't care; anything even remotely close to affection from Raine was a step in the right direction. Even if he was a terrible student, even if he upset her far too often.

"I care about you too, prof." He made sure to say it loudly enough that she turned a little red. She was probably bad at this sort of thing, just like his dad—it seemed that disciplinarians always were. Raine pursed her lips and told him to go back inside, to get himself something to eat and lie down.

He flashed her a mischievous grin and returned to the lobby, shaking off his companions' questions. "Nothing's wrong, nothing at all," he said, before opening the door to his father's room and resuming his vigil.

*

He regretted leaving his sword in the lobby. He didn't think he'd need it, but at this heart-stopping moment he'd been proven wrong. He clenched his fists and tried to sound threatening. "Get the hell away from him."

Yuan leaned over his father's sleeping form. He lifted his head and smirked slightly, bluish hair falling over his shoulder. "Calm yourself, kid. I'm not going to kill him. Now that we have him back, he'll no doubt do it himself. Still, I never should've trusted you to get the job done. What with your failure to kill the Chosen and all."

Lloyd took a step toward Yuan, preparing to tackle him, to choke the life out of him before he hurt his father, but as he got closer, he noticed that Yuan seemed to be in no state to kill someone. He looked gaunt, tired, frail, his arm hung in a sling across his chest, and he moved like a man about ready to collapse.

All of a sudden Lloyd remembered that they had been on the same side. "Did you get the mana cannon or whatever?" he asked.

Yuan half-smiled, not taking his eyes off Kratos. "Yes. The operation was successful, but barely so. The Renegades are holed up on that island, protecting the cannon while Sheena continues her pact-making."

"Is she okay? And Zelos?"

"Yes, she's fine. Unfortunately, so is his highness. They got out of the whole mess before Mithos' army came down on us. We're holding out all right. It was nice of the Desians to build the cannon on a ridiculously well-fortified island, but they're not so nice that they would want to share. You're lucky we're keeping Mithos distracted, or he would've already found Kratos and taken him back. You should probably hide yourselves a bit better. It was a little too easy for me to find you."

"So. What's next?" Lloyd dared himself to ask.

"Well, I suppose eventually we will save the worlds. Sever the mana links, acquire the Eternal Sword, kill Mithos, destroy Cruxis, eliminate the Desians, revive the Tree. But in order to do that we must forge a pact ring, break the seal on Origin, and make a pact with him." Lloyd thought of the little leather book that his father had left behind, with all its diagrams and notes. He thought back to the chest of treasures in the mountains of Tethe'alla; the rotten, half-burnt wood, the chunk of metal, the weird tools. He wondered if Dirk had the skills to make the ring, provided he had all the materials. But after that… Lloyd didn't know how he could condemn his father. He had a terrible track record of killing people who apparently needed to die to save the world. "Okay. I know a dwarf who can make the ring. Then we can... I will..."

Yuan raised an eyebrow at him. "Lloyd, you're insane if you think I'd trust you to kill anyone, especially after all of your failures. No, I have a bad feeling you'd let the world die to save your own family. You're too much like your father in that." Lloyd glanced at his feet, unsure of what to say. "So I've thought up an alternative. It will be risky, it will require impeccable timing, but it may save Kratos' life."

"What is it?" Lloyd asked, hope returning.

Yuan only stood, sighing. "As soon as he wakes up you need to get out of here. Or else you run the risk of Cruxis finding you. Lloyd, if you want your father to live, you will make sure he does not release the seal until I am present. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. But hold up a minute—"

"I have things to do. So many things, and very, very little time. I will try my best to keep you informed of any new developments. Goodbye, Lloyd. I'll see you soon."

Before Lloyd could stop him, he raised his hands and disappeared in an upward current of electric air. "What the…" Lloyd muttered, but he knew better than to chase after him. He only turned back to his sleeping father, a little more hopeful than before, and continued his vigil until he was too tired to stay awake.


	26. Wake

Lloyd and Colette lay side-by-side in the inn's last unoccupied room. Always, when he rested in Colette's arms, the uncertainty and hatred inside him crept back into his exsphere, and for the few moments when they were together, he felt no pain. With her, fear seemed to disappear and hope instead filled him up.

Each subsequent time they lay together, it was never nearly as nerve-racking as the first, but Lloyd couldn't help wondering if he was doing this whole thing right. Colette didn't seem to mind that he had no idea about… well, anything. And she seemed to be growing more and more comfortable with her own ailing body, perhaps because she had Lloyd's to compare it to. But Lloyd liked to think that as long as she knew he accepted every bit of her, even the diseased parts, she might learn to accept them too. She was certainly not shy about expressing her affection for his less-than-beautiful left arm. She liked to hold it close to her while her other hand explored him, touching his skin, running fingertips along his scars and injuries.

She touched a tiny scar on his right cheek. "Where is this from?"

"Bandits. When I was nine."

She frowned. "How about this one?" That one was a mark on the inside of his wrist.

"I burnt myself at Dirk's. Making your key crest."

"Oh. How about this one?"

"That's from a fight at school."

"This one?"

"A present from my dad. Sword training, if I remember right."

She counted them, moving from his face to his shoulders, stopping around his ribs, because for almost every mark below that he would just answer her query with "At the ranch."

When she lay her head on his shoulder and squeezed him, he thought she might just be bored of their game, but the look on her face betrayed anything but boredom. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"That you had to go through that. That I didn't come rescue you earlier."

"It's not your fault, Colette, I—" A muffled voice outside their door stopped him mid-sentence. "Oh shit," he hissed.

Colette struggled to cover herself with the sheets when Zelos burst through their door, already halfway through his greeting: "—hell have you guys been up to?" He fell silent when he saw them sitting next to one another, beet-red, sheets wrapped around them like robes. A broad grin crept onto his face, and he covered his mouth mischievously, gasping with pure elation. "Oh. My. Goddess. Loyd! Colette! Right  _on_ , you two!"

"Get out, Zelos!" Lloyd said.

"What the hell are you—" Sheena appeared behind him, took one look at them and grabbed Zelos' shoulder. She dragged him through the doorway, but not before Zelos could lean in and shout: "Remember Lloyd, the Goddess gave you a tongue for a reason—"

Sheena shoved him out the door, but turned and gave them a thumbs-up and a toothy grin before slamming it behind her.

Lloyd and Colette sat in silence for a moment.

"We have some weird friends," Lloyd said.

*

Lloyd found Zelos and Sheena in the lobby, gleefully bragging about their adventures and their successes.

"Gods, you shoulda seen the freak," Zelos said, beer in hand. "Rodyle, or whatever. He had some sorta freaky dragon fetish."

"Why is it always a fetish with you?" Sheena muttered.

"Because,  _hunny_ , the entirety of humankind is solely motivated by sexual desire, no matter how it manifests itself." Zelos took a sip of his drink. "Some philosopher or another said that."

"Well, I could argue all day about the absurdity of that statement," Raine sighed, "but continue with your story."

"Yeah, so anyway, he had all sorts of weird lizard things—we crushed them all, naturally, and before we knew it, the cannon was ours—"

When he saw Lloyd, Colette trailing after him, he paused his story to greet them all over again, as if it was the first time they'd met in months.

"So, kid," Sheena smiled. "Show us the man behind the boy we all know."

"What? Oh. All right." Lloyd shrugged, leading them into the bedroom that housed the sleeping Kratos.

When Sheena got a good look at him, she turned, nodding approvingly. "So this is your dad, huh? He's quite the looker for a man his age."

" _Sheena_ ," Lloyd grimaced. His disapproval was mirrored in Zelos' obnoxious pout.

"What?" Sheena laughed. "Just saying, Lloyd. If you age as well as he has you'll have no problem with the ladies."

"Gods' sake, stop," Lloyd said.

"The years have treated him quite well, considering," Raine admitted. Her statement was made worse by the fact that she was his acting physician and therefore was responsible for changing his bandages and sponge-bathing him.

"Gods, Raine, not you too."

She shrugged, smiling slightly. "It's fascinating—medically, I mean—that four thousand years din't put a wrinkle on him." Lloyd groaned, regretting he had to hear any of this. He never suspected it'd be Zelos who would come to his rescue.

"Martel's love, and  _you're_  the ones always calling me a pervert. Leave the poor man to his rest." He shoved Sheena out the door, and the rest trickled out behind him.

"So, what are you even doing here?" Lloyd asked them, gently closing the door to Kratos' room. "Aren't you supposed to be out gathering spirits to fuel the mana cannon?"

"We just stopped to see how you were doing. After the snafu that was supposed to be the Derris-Kharlan operation, we wanted to make sure you were all okay."

"Yeah, we're holding on."

"Good. We'll meet again when we're done. I've already made pacts with the Tethe'allan spirits, so now we'll be over on this side. Next we're going to the Tower of Mana, I think."

"For which spirit?" Lloyd asked.

"Well, two. Luna. And Aska."

"Aska?"

"Yeah, you heard of him?"

"Yeah. I saw him once. In the mountains."

"The mountains, huh? Where?"

Lloyd tried his best to remember. Previously, he'd only tried to forget that particular trip. "North of Ossa Trail, I think. Around where we landed the first time you came to Sylvarant."

"Wow, some memories, huh?" Sheena laughed. "That seems like so damn long ago."

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for it. Thanks for the tip. Glad we got to see you before we got on our way. Yuan told us where you were, but honestly, it wasn't that hard to figure out. You guys should probably be more careful."

"Yeah. I know." Lloyd didn't bother mentioning that the half-elf in question had paid him a visit the night before.

Zelos and Sheena stayed to nap and stuff their faces before they scrambled back to their rheiards. Raine muttered something about being glad to have gotten rid of the "horrid nuisance", but Lloyd followed them out, heart shrinking a little at the thought of saying goodbye again so soon.

"So," Sheena started as they loaded up their rheiard, "tell me if you think I've got this right. All the materials for Origin's pact ring are conveniently stuffed into a box on the top of this mountain, and all I have to do is follow these instructions to get there?"

"Yeah. Here, I wrote the coordinates down for you, too," Lloyd handed her a slip of paper. "Just type them into the computer in the rheiard and it should take you there. But… there's nowhere to land nearby, and the climb's gonna be tough. Just tell the old oracle up there that Lloyd sent you. Or Kratos. Whichever."

"All right. Got it. Will do." She smiled and crawled up into the machine's saddle. "What about you? Where are you headed?"

"We're gonna take a boat toward Iselia," Lloyd said. "After dad wakes up."

"When you say 'boat', you mean one of those creaky wooden things?" Zelos laughed.

"Yeah. Meet us there when you're done."

"Don't worry, Lloyd. You get on your little bumpkin rowboat." Zelos shook his head in pity. "We'll take the rheiards and get done traveling both worlds in half the time. Gods, I can't imagine what it was like growing up in this backwards hole. Living your whole life in it, my goddess."

"Uh. Okay."

"You have all my condolences," Zelos smiled. "Also, remember to use your tongue."

"What?"

Zelos shook his head as Sheena dragged him up onto the machine behind her. "Poor, poor Colette," was all he said before Sheena waved goodbye and they shot up into the sky.

*

Kratos sat up, waking slowly, comfortably. He sucked in the mountain air, yawning, and examined his surroundings. He was in a house, small but sturdy, the single room lined with all the little conveniences of everyday life: pots and pans, a broom, chairs, dried herbs and gardening tools. The double bed had been pushed into the far corner, and a little cot snuggled beside it. A few bookshelves lined the walls, and a low table sat in the middle of the room, cluttered with utensils and what looked to be used paintbrushes. Beyond that, a sink, neglected and stacked with dirty dishes. Light poured in through the kitchen window, and sitting on the counter, characteristically ignoring domestic chores, was Anna.

"Morning, love," she said, grinning.

"Where…" Kratos didn't know what to make of all this. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood, stretching. "Did I… did I build this?" he asked.

"Of course you did," Anna answered. "It's not a bad job. Especially since you're not a carpenter." Kratos surveyed the walls, the creaking ceiling. It looked sturdy enough, but somehow he couldn't shake the thought that he could've done much better, especially for Anna, especially for his child.

"I guess I'm not," he admitted. "Where's Lloyd?"

"He's outside, as usual. He really likes the garden we put in the front. Specifically, he likes destroying it." She smiled and slid off the counter. Kratos crept slowly, carefully up to the kitchen window and glanced into the morning light. There, on a patch of grass, was his son, chasing Noishe in a circle. Lloyd couldn't keep up with the dog on his little legs, but he tried his best, stumbling and laughing and picking himself up after every fall. There was a dirty bouquet of hastily-plucked flowers in his hand, which he brandished like a sword.

"He's growing so fast. Turning six next week." Anna slipped behind Kratos, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his shoulder. He looked down at her hands, folded gently on his stomach. They were smooth, pale, devoid of scars, scales or exspheres. They were not the hands that had gone after Lloyd, spindly and deformed, ready to rip their son apart. "I was going to make him some sort of cake, but you know how bad I am at that."

"I'll make it," Kratos said.

"Oh, good. Thanks, dear. I have a different present for him. It's a little bow and arrow I made from a piece of birch." Kratos glanced over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow. "What? Don't look at me like that, you old badger. It barely works, so it's not dangerous. The arrow is just a stick with a lump of clay at the end. I know how nervous you get about him." She released his waist and sat down at their wobbly little table. "But you know, you should let him wander a little. Go on a few adventures, maybe let him visit with some of the village kids. When I was little, my mother kicked me and my brothers out of her house at dawn, telling us not to come back until dinner was ready. The property was her domain, and we had to wander the fields, starving, until she let us back inside. Those were the days." She removed her ivory pipe from her pocket and loaded the bowl.

"Do you have to do that in here?" Kratos asked her. He'd always hated the smell.

"Yes. Yes I do," she answered, lighting the tobacco and taking a few puffs. "And if you stay with me long enough you'll start wanting some too."

"I doubt it." Kratos looked out the window and into their green garden, but he couldn't find Lloyd. His heart skipped a beat as his mind went through all the possible reasons his son would be out of his sight, none of them good. "Where'd he go?" he asked. Instinctively, his hand reached for a sword hilt that wasn't there.

"I don't know," Anna answered, blowing a smoke ring and admiring it as it dissipated in the air. "You're going to have to go find him if you want him back."

Kratos cocked his head. "What?"

Anna lowered her pipe, frowning. "You need to leave. You need to go find him."

Kratos knelt next to her, hand on her elbow. "Anna. Come with me. Let's go together."

"I can't, Kratos, and you know that. You know that too well." She lowered her gaze, and watched a tiny bit of tobacco smolder in her pipe. "Don't worry about me."

"I can't help it."

"Look. I know it can be hard, especially alone, especially with a kid like Lloyd. I know he's a little terror, but he's  _our_  little terror. And he needs you. Badly. Now more than ever."

"He needs both of us."

Anna reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Kratos… I know I'm not very good at being stern, but... if you're going to be this stubborn, I'll have to try. Listen to me. Listen well. Don't you even  _think_ of worrying about me. Just don't. I'm not going anywhere. I'll wait for you… where summer doesn't end. You know, at the edge of the water. Just like that old song."

Kratos lowered his head to her hand. Her soft skin pressed against his forehead, and he couldn't bear to let it go. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. I'll be here, waiting. You need to let me go. Don't abandon Lloyd for me. I would never forgive you."

Kratos struggled to his feet, still holding her hand, trying to recall the words to that song she had sung so often, so long ago. "Anna… Please." She didn't budge, and he knew what he had to do. "Just... kiss me once..."

She smiled. "All right. Just one kiss, before you go. Then get out of here. You have work to do."

*

"Dad?" Lloyd muttered. Kratos' eyelids fluttered, his eyebrows twitched as if he were thinking deeply about something. "Dad?" He tried to call Kratos back to him, to bring him home, back into the uncomfortable world of consciousness.

Eventually, after a few minutes of twitching and weakly groaning, Kratos cracked his eyes open. When he saw Lloyd attentively leaning over him, he looked surprised, as if he had no idea what he was seeing.

"How… did you find me?" he asked.

Lloyd grinned. "I'm your son. I'll always be able to find you." To his surprise, Kratos graced him with a weak smile.

"You've… grown," he said, lifting his hand toward Lloyd's cheek. Since he hadn't quite regained control of his body yet, what was no doubt meant to be a caress turned into a feeble slap to Lloyd's face. Lloyd smiled, figuring this was his anticipated beating, and reached up to hold Kratos' hand there.

Kratos' eyes fell on the red exsphere on Lloyd's scaled, sickly hand, and his smile disappeared. "Who… who did this to you?" he groaned.

"Kvar."

"Where is he?" Kratos growled, trying to lift his head.

"Whoa, dad. Relax. He's already dead. I killed him."

Kratos let out a quick breath. "You did, did you? You could've waited for me. I would've liked… to have a few words with him." Kratos seemed to have trouble catching his breath. He grabbed Lloyd's hand and brought it to his ear, as if he meant to listen to the sounds of the steadily growing exsphere.

"Um… what are you doing, dad?" Lloyd asked.

"It's not too late. I need to go." Kratos tried his best to push himself up, but his arms shook, his body was barely strong enough to move at all.

"Hold up a minute," Lloyd said. "You're not going anywhere." He gently shoved Kratos' shoulder, unwilling to let him get away with not telling him anything. Lloyd was so tired of being kept in the dark.

The man only groaned and tried to pull himself out of bed, until Lloyd pushed him back down again. "Don't try to stop me," Kratos said.

Lloyd couldn't help but think it was a little funny, that after all these years of disobedience, now he was the one keeping his father in line. "Not used to being helpless, huh?" he said. "It's not very fun, is it?"

"Don't get smart with me, Lloyd, just help me up." Instead, Lloyd just sat by his side, refusing to give in. Kratos, with what little strength he had, tried to push his son out of the way, managing to swing one leg off the side of the little bed. A short, pathetic struggle ensued, which ended with Kratos stumbling off the side of the bed and onto Lloyd, pinning him under his heavy, limp weight. Lloyd struggled to push him off, but his father's body didn't seem to be too thrilled to move.

"You're impossible," Lloyd grunted, arms shaking as he lifted his father off him and rolled him onto his back on the floor. Kratos groaned in pain, twisted himself onto his elbows, but didn't have the strength to stand up. Lloyd gripped him again, and after a few seconds of half-hearted flailing, Kratos gave into exhaustion. He lay on the floor, panting, staring at the ceiling, as Lloyd knelt over him.

"I hate you, dad," Lloyd told him.

Kratos smiled slightly. "I know."

He hadn't seen the door open and Raine enter. "Lloyd!" he heard a concerned shout. "You're endangering my patient!"

"Well, gee, professor, if he's your responsibility, then why don't you keep him under control?" Lloyd couldn't help shouting back.

"Gods above," Raine muttered. "He's awake for three seconds and you two are already fighting."

Lloyd pushed himself up, watching his father struggle on the ground in front of him.

"Help me get him back into bed," Raine said.

"No," Kratos protested. "I need to go."

"Yeah, well you're gonna have to wait a while to do that," Lloyd said, grabbing him under the shoulders. "You're in no state to go anywhere."

"And if you ever want to get out of that state, you'll let us help you," Raine grunted, grabbing his legs. "Good goddess, he's heavy. Here, just lay him back down there… that's… good. Oh, dear. You keep him quiet, I'll get him something for his pain."

Lloyd managed to get Kratos to stay in the bed, not without some complaining. "I swear, dad, we will tie you down if need be," he warned, but that didn't stop Kratos from feebly trying to escape.

When Raine returned with a cup of what could only be some painkilling narcotic, she practically forced it down Kratos' throat.

"There. Nice and easy. He should be asleep in… well, very, very soon. Oh look, there he goes."

"Wow. That was some potent stuff," Lloyd said.

"Isn't it? It's from Boltzmann. It's a higher dose of what I gave you for your nightmares." She sat down next to him and looked Kratos over. "I wonder if… after all that, if his mind is still intact."

"Oh, he's always been at least a little crazy," Lloyd offered. "He thinks he can do everything by himself. He doesn't listen to anyone. He thinks he's always right."

"He's a bit like you, then."

Lloyd sighed. "Not too much, I hope."

It took a few hours for Kratos to come to. When he opened his eyes, Lloyd could tell he was too dazed to try to get up. "Are you all right?" Lloyd asked him.

"Yes... Thank you." His eyes were dull and his words barely coherent, but at least he wasn't belligerent enough to fight his way to freedom. His head swayed in half-sleep, his eyes closed once more, and he muttered a few syllables of nonsense.

Lloyd wondered how long he would be like this. A part of him feared that Raine's medicine may be strong enough to dismantle his mind a little. Even more so, he feared that something really had happened to his consciousness during all those months he'd been stuck to that horrid machine.

"You need rest. Go back to sleep," Lloyd told him. He squeezed his shoulder, grateful that for once in his life his dad was finally listening to him. Kratos' hand found its way out of the sheets and closed around Lloyd's.

"Stay here..." his father whispered. "Mithos..."

Lloyd suddenly found himself short of breath, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "No, dad. It's me, Lloyd."

But Kratos had already fallen back asleep.

*

Kratos' recovery was slow and painful, made even more so by the urgency to get out of Hima and move on to Iselia. Every hour they stayed there and let Kratos lay in bed was another hour Mithos would be able to search for him. Lloyd wanted nothing more than to sit his father down and wrestle answers from him—answers about his mother, about Cruxis, Mithos, the Great War... but every time he found an opportunity to ask, Kratos was either asleep or under the debilitating influence of one painkiller or another.

So Lloyd decided the best thing they could do was pack their bags and move out, no matter how slow his injured father would make the journey.

"I just can't get through to him, Colette," Lloyd said, stuffing a large shirt into his bag. "He keeps on calling me by names that aren't mine. He doesn't make any sense. I keep trying to ask him questions and he can't answer them."

"I'm sorry," was all Colette could say as she packed her things. Lloyd was struggling to cram all of his stuff and the items he had bought for his father in his pack, so he handed over a few things to Colette to put in hers.

"It's like he's caught in some sort of dream. Raine says she's lowering his dosage, and that he'll be fine, that he's just not used to his medicine yet, but I don't know... What if he lost his mind up there? All alone, tied up to that machine."

"Lloyd." Colette closed her pack and pulled it from the bed. "Raine wouldn't say those things if she didn't mean them. She isn't like that. She wouldn't lie to you to make you feel better."

Oddly enough, that did relieve Lloyd a little. He shoved the last of his things in his bag and hauled it over his shoulder, sighing. He and Colette made their way downstairs, to find Kratos fully dressed, standing on his own. It had taken him a full day to sit up, so being able to walk on his own so soon was pretty miraculous, in Lloyd's opinion. "Are you ready to go?" he asked him.

Kratos nodded. He still looked a little dazed, but he wasn't speaking nonsense anymore. In fact, he barely spoke at all. Lloyd took this as a sign he might be getting back to normal. He was at least partially coherent, enough so that he could manage to ask Lloyd what he had been up to while he had been locked away in the cramped prison of Derris-Kharlan.

So as they made their way out of Hima and toward the nearest harbor, Lloyd slowed his pace to match his limping father's, and told him everything. He told him about Tethe'alla, Sheena, Yuan, the Chosen, both the Chosens... and Kratos just listened calmly, attentively. Lloyd didn't know if his composure was a result of his ability to adapt to his new situation, or if it was the heavy drugs Raine had been giving him. The first few days, while they headed too slowly toward the northern sea, he asked Lloyd the same questions over and over—how did he find him, why did he come back for him, who were all these people, why did he feel so strange... By the end of the third day, when the ocean came into view, Kratos stopped repeating himself. He abandoned his walking stick by the side of the road and insisted that he was fine.

Because Lloyd had to reiterate so many times during his narrative, he hadn't yet arrived at the part where he'd been taken to the ranch. He thought he might as well skip over that bit and hope that his dad wouldn't notice. But when they set up camp that night, Lloyd could tell that his father was close to being his old, acute self again. He suddenly didn't want to tell that part of the story—he didn't want to relive any of those moments, and he especially didn't want his father to fret over him. Fortunately, Kratos didn't press him.

Lloyd lit the fire and sat down beside his father, removing his boots and warming his feet by the flames. "Dad?"

"Yes, Lloyd?" Kratos sat and stared into the fire a little too intently.

"Are you back with us? How's your brain?"

"It's... fine, I think. Whatever painkiller your doctor had me on was... quite effective. But I think I'm all right now."

"Raine. Raine's the doctor, remember?"

"Yes. And her brother, your friend from school, Genis. And Colette, the Chosen. You must've told me this a hundred times."

"Just about." The three in question were making themselves busy, gathering wood for the fire, and setting up tents. None seemed too interested in eavesdropping on Lloyd and his father. It's not like anything they talked about was particularly important, or at least anything the other members of the group had not heard before.

In truth, Lloyd wanted a long, cogent, informational explanation of every single secret his father had kept from him for the past eighteen years, but he knew he wasn't going to get one. What he wanted to know most was a subject so delicate he didn't know if his father would up and run away at the mere mention of it. Kratos might not get too far before Lloyd could catch him again, not in this state, but you never knew. The bastard had wings, he could probably fly away. Lloyd knew the only reason he stuck around now was because he had convinced him that they really were on their way to forge the pact ring he had been trying to make for so many years, and not galavanting across the countryside for fun.

Lloyd wondered if Kratos was coherent enough at this point to tell him what he wanted to hear. Before he could muster up the courage to ask him about his mother, Kratos spoke.

"She's dying, you know," he said quietly, looking at Colette. She sat wrestling with her bedroll, and in the dim firelight Lloyd could make out a tiny patch of discolored skin on her cheek. She couldn't hide her sickness from everyone for long.

"I know," Lloyd answered.

"It's a rare condition, but every once in a while, a Chosen rejects the Cruxis Crystal. Or maybe it's the other way around. I've seen it before. There's only one person I know who's cured it, though."

"Who?" Lloyd asked, hopeful.

"Mithos." Lloyd deflated. No way in hell was he about to hand Colette over to him for maintenance. "He may heal her yet, if she's of some use to him."

"Yeah, well we don't need him. Raine's gonna fix it." Lloyd paused. "What exactly does Mithos want with Colette anyway? What's he been using Chosens for this whole time?"

"Lloyd," Kratos turned back to the fire to escape his son's glare. "Can this wait?"

"No."

Kratos sighed. "I... I never wanted you to know any of this. I tried my best to keep you out of the whole mess, I really did. I didn't want you hurt. But it looks like I didn't do a very good job."

"No, you didn't," Lloyd admitted. "So tell me about Mithos."

When Kratos spoke, he spoke slowly, haltingly, as if it took great effort to say what he needed to. "Mithos... Mithos was a bright pupil, and kind. He was always trying to do what he thought was right, but as you already know, he was born into the era of the Kharlan War. It was hard on him, but he tried his best to alleviate suffering, to end violence. He and his sister Martel both dedicated themselves to that cause. I stayed with them, well... partly because I was wanted as a deserter and couldn't possibly find company anywhere else. But mostly I believed in him. He was strong, he was kindhearted, and he was so sure that he could end the War. I clung to him, I suppose, because he was so hopeful. He was a kind of beacon in a world that had lost all meaning to me."

Kratos paused to take a breath, a small smile crossing his features. "And he did it, by all the gods, he did it. The Kharlan War ended by his hand. But... things change. People change. After Martel died, he was different. He started to think that he would be able to bring her back, that he could do the impossible. After all, he could, couldn't he? He had split the world, he had ended the War. He thought he could stop death.

"Maybe that was where he went wrong. Maybe that's where we all went wrong, thinking we could live our lives never accepting death. We had all become so powerful over the years... and we had Mithos to thank for it. We had him to thank for ending the War, and we believed in him. We all believed that we could bring back the dead. The most terrifying part was that we absolutely could. We had successfully preserved Martel's soul in the seed of the Great Kharlan Tree, and all we needed to do was find a suitable host for it. So we spent hundreds of years developing the ritual of the Chosen, not only as a system for regulating mana flow, but to find a proper vessel for Martel. We created and cultured an entire belief system centered on that ritual, and we established ourselves as its leaders. We, much like the Chosen, gave up a part of what made us people, in order to become seraphim. It was the symbolism, I think, that convinced me for so long that our cause was righteous. We were angels, actual angels, guiding a sinful world toward salvation.

"At first, I thought it was the right thing to do. We all loved Martel, none of us wanted to see her go. But as time wore on and Mithos grew more and more obsessed with bringing her back, Yuan and I began to realize that the well-intentioned endeavor was doing more harm than good. People on the worlds below were suffering, dying, because of the mana imbalance we created. I just thought that the faster we made Mithos happy, the faster this could all end. He was the closest thing I had to a family, so I wanted him to be content. But I also wanted him to stop hurting the world, so I did my best to bring Martel back.

"Yuan, however, was never a man for whom the ends justified the means, so he turned against us. He hid it well, and neither of us knew of his defection for a long time. About the time I found out Yuan had betrayed us was the same time I found out about Mithos' new plan. It was a program designed to eliminate the race he felt was responsible for Martel's death. 'The Age of Lifeless Beings,' he called it. I think that was when I woke up to his insanity. I was never able to see that all this time, that kind boy had a monster inside him, just waiting to wake up..." He trailed off before turning to Lloyd and frowning. "This isn't your battle, Lloyd. You shouldn't have to fight it."

Lloyd glanced down at his exspheres. "I'm part of this world, dad. Of course it's my battle."

"Mithos is not your responsibility. He belongs to me and Yuan."

"He tried to hurt Colette," Lloyd said quietly. "He tried to hurt you. And he... he's behind all those human ranches." Lloyd rubbed his hand unconsciously. "So don't pretend like you can do this alone. Yggdrasill has hurt all of us. So what if he's your fault? He's still all of our responsibility."

Kratos gave Lloyd a look that made his heart twist, but he couldn't tell if it was a gaze of affection, or concern, or dissatisfaction. Maybe a mix of all three. Kratos sighed and lay down, lifting his eyes to the sky. Lloyd lay back and stared with him. He found it hard to believe that somewhere out there, somewhere very close, the world of Derris-Kharlan floated, filled to the brim with those lifeless beings Mithos had created. Lloyd couldn't help but admire the fallen hero a little, regardless of his travesties. Mithos had power that Lloyd could only dream of, power that could change the world, wipe out hatred, power that could even bring back the dead.

"Lloyd, are you hungry?" A voice from the other side of the fire brought him back down from the stars. Colette walked toward him, bowl outstretched. "Sir Kratos, would you like some?" she asked.

"No, thank you." Kratos hadn't eaten since his return, but he would sleep if given enough of Raine's potent analgesic.

Lloyd thanked Colette and took the bowl from her, trying to force his thoughts to drift away from the darker regions of his mind, but they had already wandered too deep. Resurrection, he thought, was just another form of regeneration, wasn't it? There was nothing inherently immoral about it, only the rejection of it. If one had power over death, it would only make sense that person would want to use it.

But then… if Mithos were so powerful, what would he need Desians for? Why would he have to make exspheres, why would he have to manufacture the Church to make a vessel, why would he need to torture, kill, wreak havoc? There's always a price to pay for that kind of power. And Lloyd wasn't so sure he'd be willing to pay it.

"Lloyd." His father's hand on his shoulder brought his thoughts back to the present. "You look upset."

"It's nothing," he said, and focused on his soup, burying those disquieting thoughts in the back of his mind. But his father's hand didn't leave his shoulder—perhaps Kratos thought that as long as he kept contact with him, he might be able to alleviate some of Lloyd's emotional burdens. Lloyd didn't have the heart to tell him how wrong he was.


	27. Ship

Lloyd stared at the night sky, watching the stars turn slowly overhead. It was the best view of the cosmos he'd had in a long time. Since the moon was new, and there were no lights out here in the middle of the ocean, he could see everything. In fact, the sky was so bright that it was difficult to even separate constellations from their dimmer counterparts, but he watched anyway, picking out a shape here and there, and a story.

He heard a shuffling behind him, and didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He only stared upward, into the abyss above him, drawing shapes in his mind. "Did you know that the stars are the same in Tethe'alla and Sylvarant?" he said. No answer. "I figured you did. But the stories are different. Sometimes the constellations are the same, but the tales behind them depend on which world you're in. Like that one, the one you taught me when I was little, the figurehead of a pirate ship. In Tethe'alla she's actually a monster that turns people to stone. The clump of stars behind her isn't the ship, but it's her thick tail. It's some sort of alligator tail, or something. I dunno, Zelos wasn't very good at explaining it."

Still no answer. Lloyd heard wood creak beneath his father's feet, and he came to lean over the side of the ship, next to his son.

"There's still a lot to learn about them," Lloyd found himself saying. "I'm not so smart, but maybe I can try." He paused. "There's one question I've been meaning to ask, though. Raine's been trying to teach me astronomy, and I've been wondering… for the two worlds, why are the moons different, but the stars the same?"

Kratos let out a small sigh. "That would take forever to explain. Even I don't understand it completely."

Lloyd stared in silence for a few moments, listening to the gentle splash of waves against the creaking hull. "So why did you do it? Rip the world apart, I mean."

"I thought… we all thought it was the only way to stop the War. The only way to fix everything. And it did, in the short term. But it did unleash a plethora of other problems. Mana depletion, for one."

"Then…" Lloyd hesitated for a moment. "Then how do I know that what I'm doing now will be good in the long run? How do I know what I'm doing isn't wrong?"

"You don't, Lloyd. You rarely ever do. That's just part of life. That's part of growing up. You will always make mistakes, even with the best intentions. The real question is if you will be able to face the consequences of those mistakes."

Lloyd laughed a little, heart hurting. "So far, I do a pretty crappy job of that. This whole time I've just been running away from my failures. I was going to kill the Chosen to save you, and I failed. Then I was going to kill you to save the world, and I failed. I've just screwed up so many times… I keep vowing to fix everything, to make up for my mistakes, but when the time comes… I chicken out. I can't bring myself to make those kinds of choices."

Kratos moved a little closer and lay a hand on Lloyd's shoulder. "When I was your age, I was already fighting a war I didn't believe in. I was fighting to survive, but I never knew if it was right or not. Some others from my country, they knew. They refused to enlist, or escaped from the training camps, but the punishment for desertion was death. Some of them cut off their own fingers or hands to avoid conscription. They were ridiculed as cowards, traitors, weaklings, but I couldn't help wondering which took more courage—killing a man for a cause you don't believe in, or mutilating yourself to avoid killing at all. I still don't really know the answer, but I do know that after four thousand years, it takes more courage to practice mercy than violence. By letting the Chosen live, by letting me live, you've proven yourself a stronger man than I ever was. I… I was taught that things can only be solved one way. But… Lloyd, remember this. Sometimes, violence is the only option. Sometimes you have no choice. And you have to prepare yourself to face that fact."

Lloyd choked up, trying to swallow the sob waiting at the bottom of his throat. Maybe now was the time. Maybe there would be no other time. "Is… is that what you told yourself when you killed my mom?"

Lloyd heard Kratos take in a short breath, as if punched in the stomach. Anna was always Lloyd's trump card, nothing would change that. "I…" Kratos could barely start, but Lloyd waited for him. He'd been waiting so long for this. "I told myself… plenty of things. When I did it. After I did it. Years after. I tried to justify my actions to myself for so long. She had gone insane. Her exsphere had taken full control over her, and she had turned into something that was… not Anna. She wasn't your mother anymore. She was incurable, violent… and there was nothing I could do to bring her back. She was going to kill you, Lloyd. She tried to kill you." Lloyd thought of those horrifying stories he had heard at the ranch, about people whose exspheres had driven them mad, turned them into monsters, and he looked down at his arm. Kratos followed his gaze, and Lloyd wondered if he was already halfway there. His father's hand found his sickly one, and he continued. "At the time, I wasn't thinking about anything, except how I was going to save you. I was just trying to save you… But afterward, I told myself so many stories. I tortured myself for so long, trying to right the wrong I did. But I know, I will always know that…" Kratos couldn't finish, and Lloyd didn't really want him to. "I expect you will never forgive me."

Lloyd stared out into the water, not daring to look at his father. "I don't know if I can."

"I understand." Kratos turned to go.

"But," Lloyd started before his dad could wander off in his misery, "if it was to save me, then… I'm sure mom would've forgiven you. And if she would've, then I can at least try."

Lloyd felt a a tug on his hand, and he turned to look his father in the face. Behind the eternally youthful skin, the strong features untouched by time, Lloyd could see a look of ancient weariness in his eyes. Gods, he did look old, so damn old. Lloyd got an eerie feeling in his stomach that his father was about to leave him, that he was about to disappear into the night. So before Kratos had the chance to escape him, he embraced his father at the waist and squeezed him tight. He felt strong arms wrap around him, and now sure that they would stay together, at least for a moment, he lay his head on Kratos' chest.

"Don't do it, dad," he sputtered. "Don't release the seal. Don't leave me alone."

"I have to, Lloyd. It's the only way. Besides, you've grown so much. You don't need me anymore."

"I do, I need you. Don't do it."

"I can't be around forever, you know."

"Is four thousand years not forever?" Lloyd squeezed tighter, afraid that if he let go, his father would float away, disappear into the starry abyss. "You can live. Yuan says he knows a way. He'll—"

"Yuan," Kratos almost snorted. "Yuan has always been a fool, Lloyd. But a well-meaning one. Don't let him trick you into believing anything impossible."

"Dad…" Lloyd lifted his head and looked into Kratos' face. "At least let me die with you. We can release the seal together. It won't be long until my exsphere kills me, anyway."

"It won't kill you. I won't let you die before I do. You have plenty of things to do here. You have a life ahead of you. I... I have only done damage to this world. It will be better off when I'm gone."

"Don't say things like that."

Kratos only gripped him tighter, and Lloyd closed his eyes. He listened to the waves curl against the wooden hull, listened to his father's quiet, slow heartbeat, his own ragged breathing, and beneath all of it, beneath the sounds of life and suffering and the world, he swore he could hear a high-pitched ring, an unearthly, silver noise, and he knew it was the stars.

*

Sailing to Iselia was smooth but tedious. Kratos, when not sitting by himself in the corners of the ship, would linger by, saying little, just watching Lloyd and occasionally letting himself smile a little. Genis and Colette admitted to be fascinated by him, but whenever they approached him to ask about his past or his wings or his plans, he would either brush off their inquiries or answer with such curt reluctance they felt as if they had offended him somehow. Several times Lloyd had to assure them that his father was just naturally unapproachable, and they shouldn't worry about him.

But after Genis and Colette left him alone, he would come to Lloyd to ask about them. Especially Colette.

"Do you love her?" Kratos asked him one night. Lloyd didn't know if his father was concerned for him or just trying to embarrass him, as fathers always did, but he answered truthfully.

"I… uh… I think so."

Kratos closed his eyes slowly, satisfied by the answer. "She seems like a sweet girl. Don't hurt her."

"What?" Lloyd looked up at him, confused. "Why would I do that?" But as he watched his father retreat into the shadows, he suspected that all of Kratos' anguish came not from being hurt, but from hurting others. Purposefully, inadvertently, strangers, loved ones—Kratos was the type of man who left a trail of blood in his wake, even if he didn't mean to. Maybe it came from having too much power, or too much passion. Well, it'd be Lloyd's job now to make sure that he never turned out like him.

During the trip, Kratos seemed to spend a lot of time in his own head, and at this point, Lloyd couldn't really blame him. Still, he was thankful that Kratos was again present in his life at all, even if he never spoke until he and Lloyd were alone.

A few days into their journey, in the hull of the ship, Raine examined Lloyd's hand. Kratos sat nearby, frowning, sorting through the necessities Lloyd had bought him at Hima. Lloyd was sure all his gifts were probably the wrong size, the wrong make, and would only be met with disapproval, but he didn't have time to linger on Kratos' disappointment when Raine was having a field day with his disease.

"This… I'm sorry, Lloyd, but this is fascinating. Does it feel better?"

"A bit." Ever since his skin had gone from swollen and tender to dry and scaly, the constant agony had receded to a dull but irritating itch. He always had to keep himself from scratching at it, but at least it wasn't so painful anymore.

"Do you have to do that in here?" Raine asked. Kratos had pulled out a small pipe Lloyd had bought him and was now filling it.

"Yes. Yes I do," he said.

Lloyd had learned to like the smell, after so many years of it. It usually meant that his father was about to relax and have his mood improve drastically. This also usually meant that Lloyd could get away with more misbehavior than usual.

Raine wrapped up his hand and left them, complaining of the smoke, saying that as a physician, it was her duty to at least recommend abstaining. But she left them to it, probably because she knew they were both doomed anyway.

"You know," Lloyd smiled after a little while. "I thought that once you learned about all the trouble I got myself into, you'd give me a sound beating. I've been dreading it for months."

"Dreading?" Kratos seemed concerned, but Lloyd couldn't tell if it was for his son or because of the low-quality tobacco that Lloyd had bought in Hima.

"Yeah. Every time you showed up I was always a little nervous about how we would get along."

"Did I really scare you?"

"Well… yeah. All the time."

Kratos let out a sound that had an equal chance of being a laugh or a grunt. "I guarantee I was far more terrified of you than you were of me."

Lloyd had a hard time believing that. "Oh, really."

"When you were a baby, I was afraid to even hold you. I thought that I'd… drop you, or hurt you, or something. I was so convinced that I would accidentally kill you somehow. And then, when you got older, I had to force myself not to kill you."

"Huh. I guess I was kind of a little shit."

"You did know how to rub me the wrong way. Gods, you were so good at it, it was uncanny. I was so afraid that if I didn't kill you, you'd find some other way to do it. By running off and getting yourself murdered by highwaymen. By trying something dangerous. You did try to kill yourself quite a bit, you know. And you were so stubborn, you didn't listen, so I thought maybe I could smack some sense into you. Still, I never should've treated you the way I did." Kratos sighed smoke. "You know, after all those years of trying to teach you lessons, I think you've taught me the most valuable one."

"What?"

"You can't beat sense into fools."

Lloyd snorted. "Thanks, dad."

Kratos smiled a little. "I think you've learned plenty of lessons on your own. You did all this… you figured everything out, you took care of yourself. You traveled both worlds, you held your own. You got strong, you made friends, allies, even found yourself a girl. All without me."

Lloyd had to concede. "Yeah. I guess I did."

Kratos sat pensive for a few moments, puffing smoke. "I swear you've grown taller."

Lloyd laughed. "Am I tall enough to be a pirate yet?"

"Not nearly. You seem about the right height for maybe… a farmer. An innkeeper. A tailor. Something that doesn't require violence."

"The dwarf we're gonna see, Dirk… He offered me a blacksmith apprenticeship."

Kratos smiled. "You're just the right height for that, I suppose. Are you going to take it?"

"Maybe. I don't know what I'm gonna do when this is all over. Chances are, I'll be dead by then."

Kratos frowned, took Lloyd's left hand in his own. "I was right to be afraid for you. Somehow, deep in my gut, I knew this would happen."

Lloyd didn't know what to say. "Well, I guess we have some bonding time before I die?" he suggested.

"Don't worry, Lloyd. I won't let it kill you. I've failed you so many times before, I won't do it again. Not when it matters the most."

"What do you mean?"

"Here, have some." Kratos handed him the pipe to shut him up. He took a puff, giving his father enough time to change the subject. "So, you have the instructions for making the pact ring? And the materials?"

"Sheena says there are some mistakes, but she can fix them. She's off to get the materials now."

"Sheena?"

"The summoner. You didn't meet her. She's going to make a pact with Origin so we can use the Eternal Sword or whatever."

Kratos' brow furrowed. "Gods, Lloyd, 'or whatever?' Maybe you haven't been maturing as much as I thought."

Lloyd laughed and handed the pipe back to his father. "Hey, you know me. Always the stubborn little boy. That's your fault, I guess, for raising me the way you did."

"Humph."

Lloyd stared at his hands for a moment. "I mean, it was a little weird, you paying so much money to send me to school under a fake name. And then not caring if I did well in it. I guess you had other stuff to worry about."

"Your grades were not… my primary concern. To be honest, it was when you started reminding me too much of Mithos that I got worried."

"Wait, what? Yuan said that I reminded him of Mithos, too."

"It's true. Mithos went to school for a while, was at the top of his class, until the racial decrees forced him out. So it wasn't scholastic underachievement that turned him into what he is. That turned the world into what it is. It was his determination, his resolve, his unwavering sense of justice. And his strength. He always wanted to do the right thing, no matter what. He wouldn't take no for an answer. That's what worried me about you. I knew that at some point you would run off and try to change the world. And from my experience, when someone tries hard enough, they do change the world. But it's always for the worst."

Lloyd sighed. "And here we are. Doing just that."

"Here we are, gods help us." Kratos took a puff and handed the pipe to Lloyd again.

Lloyd stared into the smoke snaking through the air, mesmerized. "Gods help us," he repeated, quietly.

*

In the shadows of the creaking hull, where they were sure no one would find them, Lloyd and Colette lay in the dusty dark, holding one another. Despite her ever-expanding disease, Colette's skin seemed to give off a light bright enough to see by, even in the darkest nooks and crannies, where they usually embraced like this. Colette lay with her back to him, and Lloyd ran his finger over her scaly skin. The disease had spread nearly all the way down her arm, and was now making its way across her shoulder blade toward her spine.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.

"Not when I'm with you," she answered.

"Good." He cupped her shoulder, and she reached back and took his hand in hers.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Not so much anymore. Not for a while now. I think… I think the exsphere has just about run its course."

Colette gripped his hand, pressing her blighted green skin against his. He almost liked the way they matched. He let her go and turned around, pressing his back against hers, feeling her warmth seep through him. They lay in silence for a few minutes, each staring into their own darkness.

"Do you think…" Lloyd started. "Do you think that we'll meet each other again after we die?"

"I'm sure of it."

He stared at the creaking wood beams across from him, counting the grains. "One of the sailors I met in Palmacosta said that death was an island. He said that we're all going to wash up on its shores one day, and wake up in the warm sand with no troubles anymore. He said that it's always sunset there, and there's a big white lighthouse that lights up the sea, so that the souls can find their way there. There's no winter, and the water is always warm."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Yeah. I'm thinking we should build a house on the west side of the island so we can get a good view of the eternal sunset."

"I agree. I hope it's near the lighthouse."

"It will be. I have this all planned out. It'll be made of red brick and it'll have a big window that faces the ocean."

"We'll have a garden," Colette suggested.

"Of course."

"And a dog or two."

"That goes without saying."

Lloyd felt Colette turn over and wrap her arms around him. She leaned into his shoulder. "I can't wait."

Lloyd smiled, still staring at the shadows around him. "Neither can I."

*

Iselia was just as peaceful as Lloyd remembered. It looked like it had remained untouched by the chaos to which he had become so accustomed. The town was quiet, the ranch was quieter, so they had an easy time making their way up to Dirk's house. Lloyd didn't know why Desian activity in the region had decreased, so he took it as a sign of the Renegades' success. Maybe Mithos had called his forces back, and he needed all the help he could to retake the mana cannon—but that was a concern for Yuan and his troops. It wasn't Lloyd's mission to think about that now, only to make sure the forging of the pact ring was a success.

Within a few miles of Dirk's house, Noishe emerged from the trees to greet them. Kratos fell to one knee, arms outspread, and the dog, whining excitedly, wiggled his way into the man's embrace. Lloyd could see Kratos whisper something into the animal's waiting ear, scratching him and generally showing more affection than Lloyd thought was normal.

"Looks like you missed the dog more than you missed me," he joked, but when Kratos turned to him, something in his gaze told him that his comment had stung. Noishe accompanied them to the edge of Dirk's property, and when he was sure they were safely delivered to their destination, he ran off into the trees, no doubt on the prowl for something delicious.

When the dwarf's humble abode came into view, Kratos had to stop. He insisted that it would be better if he stayed away, if they let him leave, but Lloyd would have none of it. "We still need to make the ring," he said. "And besides, you can't leave until you're completely better." He tugged at his father's reluctant arm. "Come on, I'll defend you from Dirk if I need to."

"Defend me?" Kratos asked, half-smiling.

The door to the house swung open, and the dwarf in question stood broad and welcoming in the doorway. But when he saw Kratos, he turned red and clutched his chest, teeth grinding. He looked like he had murder on his mind, but Lloyd stepped between the two.

"Dirk… um," he started. "Meet my dad."

"You! You're a right bastard, you know that?" the dwarf said in lieu of a proper greeting.

"Perhaps," Kratos answered, as if that were the only thing he could say. "Yes, I think you're right."

"Well, come on in and sit yourself down, you need a talkin' to." Dirk forwent whatever violence he had planned and led them all inside. After launching an indignant tirade against Kratos for his neglect, his parenting, his mistakes and his carelessness, he served them all beer and declared all was forgiven.

It was a dwarf thing, he said. Once they drank together, any bad blood between them was through. He then proceeded to threaten Kratos with swift retribution if he let Lloyd get into any more trouble.

Kratos took the criticism in stride, stoic as always. By the end of the night, he and Dirk, just a little drunk, sat together, talking deeply and smoking heavily. Lloyd couldn't understand a word they said, but found it bewilderingly odd that they ended their feud with beer, tobacco, and philosophical conversation. He figured it was an old man thing.

Raine and Genis were up to their usual shenanigans, which included study and only study, so Lloyd decided to go outside and check on his mother.

"Hi. I'm back," he said to the lifeless grave. "I brought dad with me. Who'da thunk I'd be the one to rescue him? You'd think after thousands of years he'd learn to take care of himself." He paused, looking the tombstone over, wondering if his mother would be proud. "Did you know he was that old? Did you know he has  _wings_? What a weirdo."

He stayed at the grave well into the early hours of the morning, telling her about all that had happened since his last visit. A rustling in the grass behind him interrupted his conversation, and he looked over his shoulder to see Kratos emerge from the garden beside the house. He crept to Anna's grave and stared at it for a moment.

"Is this… yes. It is her."

"Yeah."

Kratos put a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Lloyd. I can't stay here."

Anger crept through Lloyd, starting in his exsphere and creeping through his veins. "Why? You can't look at her?"

Kratos stayed silent for a moment. "It's not that. It's just that… I have so much I need to do."

"Bullshit. I think you can't stay here because you can't face what you've done."

"Lloyd—"

"Come here and sit down. We're going to be together. For a little bit, at least."  _We are one screwed up family_ , Lloyd thought.  _One dead, one dying and one immortal. Now that's hardly fair._  "Sit down and spend some time with us."

Lloyd didn't quite expect his father to obey him, but a little of his anger receded when Kratos knelt on the dirt beside him and lay a hand on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a few agonizing minutes, watching the grave intently, as if it might give them back what they had lost.

"You know," Kratos started, softly, "ever since you were a little, I wondered what you would've been like if she had been around. If you didn't have only me. I suppose if you'd had someone else entirely, you probably wouldn't be in this whole mess."

"What do you mean?" Lloyd asked.

Kratos sighed. "Often, especially when things got rough, I would hate myself for keeping you with me. I kept telling myself I should've left you, I should've abandoned you. I should've given you away. To an orphanage. To anyone who might want you. Imagine growing up with Dirk. Imagine growing up here instead of on the knee of a sellsword."

Lloyd did imagine it would've been quite different. He would've been able to grow up with Colette, for one thing. And have a house, a home. That would've been nice.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all this," Kratos continued. I tried to keep you out of it, I really did. Maybe if I had let you grow up in Iselia, you wouldn't be caught up in all of this. I was selfish and cruel enough to force this life on you, for my sake. Forgive me… no one deserves a father like me."

"Shut up, dad!" Lloyd said. "Don't gimme that bullshit. You did the best you could. You paid for my school, you taught me to fight, you…" he glanced down at his exspheres, "well… you protected me from the Desians for all those years."

"Lloyd. I am one of the founders of Cruxis, one of the overseeing seraphim. I spent years perfecting and enforcing the two-world paradigm. That includes ranches. Lloyd, I  _am_  a Desian, I'm worse than a Desian."

"But you left them. You're not like them."

Kratos sighed and stood. "How little you know. Keep it that way. You'll be better off for it."

"Where are you going?"

"Inside."

"Hey, hold up. I'm not done with you yet. Hey, dad, wait!"

But Kratos had already closed the door behind him and left Lloyd alone in the chilly night.

"Bastard."

*

Lloyd slept fitfully, as usual, but Kratos hovered over him, ready for the nightmares to come. When he heard light footsteps behind him, he turned slowly, still bent over his son.

"You still don't sleep, Chosen One?" he asked.

Colette shook her head. "I only sleep if I want to."

Kratos sighed. "I imagine that it can be difficult to get rest with him thrashing about all night."

"I usually stay near him, when he has bad dreams. That seems to help."

"Hm." Kratos lay his thumb on Lloyd's forehead, tracing a rune across his skin. "I usually use a spell to help him sleep, but it seems that I've been replaced."

"What spell is that?"

"It's old binding magic. I used it a lot when he had nightmares as a child. After…"

Colette stayed silent, waiting for him to finish, but he never did.

When Lloyd's tossing and turning had ceased, Kratos turned to her. "Chosen One—"

"Colette, please."

"Colette. I know he can be rash, stubborn, foolish even. I know he's a handful. But please take care of him."

"Why don't you?"

"He doesn't need me anymore. It seems he's been doing a lot of growing up without me around. He's much better off this way."

"All due respect, sir Kratos, but I don't think so. If there's one thing Lloyd couldn't stand, it was me selling myself short. Lloyd's a good, kind, wonderful person, and you're his father, so you're at least partly responsible for that."

Kratos turned back to his sleeping son, who was now curled in a ball, clutching the sheets to his chest. "Sometimes I think he turned out that way despite me rather than because of me."

"I don't think so."

Kratos sighed. "He will try to stop me from releasing Origin's seal. Don't let him."

"Kratos, sir, if I may, he'd be doing the right thing."

"I'd think you of all people should know the necessity of sacrifice."

Colette glanced at her feet. "I thought I did. But Lloyd found another way. He can find another way for you too."

Kratos shook his head. "There is no other way. Promise me you won't let him stop me."

"I… I can't promise that."

Kratos stood and looked her in the eye. "If you want Lloyd to live, let me do this."

"What do you mean?"

Kratos made for the hall, ignoring the question. "Watch over him while I'm gone." He strode out the door, down the steps, and into the shadowy night without another word.


	28. The Pact Ring

" _What_?" Lloyd punched the doorframe. Pain throbbed up his arm and he shook his stinging hand. It didn't help that his exsphere was acting up at the same time, sending waves of anger through him. "That son of a bitch thinks he can walk out on me, just like that?"

"Lloyd, calm down," Raine said. "Punishing Dirk's house isn't going to help."

"You have no idea! He does this all the time! Right when I think I have him back he runs away, dammit, he always…" Lloyd fell silent, fist still on the slivery doorframe. Maybe he had forced Kratos out when he insisted he stay at Anna's grave. Maybe he had been too harsh, maybe he had been uncaring and thoughtless and a downright damnable bastard—just like Kratos. And shit, now was the worst possible time his father could've ditched him, right before the forging of the pact ring, not to mention right when Lloyd had his family back together... sort of. He wondered if it was normal, or at least in some way understandable, to consider a headstone a part of his family.

"Ah, well, good riddance," he mumbled, rubbing the pain from his hand.

"You'll see him again," Genis said. "At least… well, at least at Origin's seal."

_If I can get there in time to stop him from killing himself,_  Lloyd failed to add.  _And if Yuan can._

Lloyd hadn't heard from Yuan since Hima. He could only hope that they could get the pact ring forged and be on their way before Kratos decided to release the seal alone. The last thing Lloyd wanted to do was screw up Yuan's ostensibly delicate plan to save his father—especially since Lloyd still had so much to say to him.

So for the next few days, Lloyd watched the sky eagerly, waiting for any sign of Zelos and Sheena. Dirk readied his smithy for the special occasion, cleaning his tools, emptying out his usually cluttered space to work. Lloyd leant him Kratos' notebook, and somehow, the dwarf was able to understand it, but often referred to his collection of ancient dwarfish texts to make sense of the more humanly-inspired bits. "Humans just aren't natural blacksmiths," he said to himself. "They don't come out of the mother's womb with a hammer in hand."

"I didn't even know dwarfs  _came_  from a womb," Genis said, forcing Dirk to go on an educational tirade about the contributions, history, anatomy and culture of female dwarves. He was just tacking on a speech about the mistakes inherent in the human perception of how having a beard necessarily made one male, when Lloyd decided he wanted some fresh air.

He swung his bare feet from the side of the porch and listened to poor Genis get a loud talking-to from Dirk. Raine lounged nearby, smiling every once in a while when Genis asked a question and got an answer that was longer and in far more detail than he bargained for.

"You enjoying this?" Lloyd asked Raine.

"Immensely. It saves me the trouble."

"Trouble?"

"Of talking to him about things like this. Love, sex, reproduction. They're not subjects I find particularly interesting."

Lloyd lifted his head and smiled. "I guess you do have a lot of more important things to think about."

"Yes, well…" She sighed, leaning over the railing of the porch and watching the sky. "Genis is so full of questions, and I have no answers for him. He once asked me how to get a girl to like him."

"And what did you say?"

"I said I had no idea. Because I don't. He asked me what girls like. What do girls like, that's the million gald question, isn't it? I like mathematics, medicine and archeology. Colette likes dogs and pretending she knows how to dance. I don't think Sheena likes anything as much as landing a good kick to someone's face."

Lloyd laughed. "That's true."

"So I'm relying on someone with more confidence to tell him the things he wants to know. Like you."

"Well, he's already asked me more than a few tough questions, at school."

Raine smiled, curious eyes bright. "Like what?"

"Well, like… 'What's it like to be drunk?' And 'When will I have to start shaving?' And 'Do you think Lena would like this?' Oh, Lena was his crush for a while… last year, I think. He wouldn't stop talking about her."

"And what became of that?" Raine's smile was almost mischievous.

"Well… not much. She was three or four years older than him. She let him down easy, he cried for a week, and then got on with life."

"Good," Raine sighed. "Sometimes I think these things have to be learned rather than taught. I swear to all the gods Genis falls in love once a season, and I don't understand it."

Lloyd chuckled. "You better watch him, before he turns out like Zelos."

Raine's grin was almost relieved. "Well, if he does, I'll at least know where all the romance genes in the family have gone." She crossed her arms. "But… I imagine he would turn out to be an anti-Zelos, if that's the case. A man who breaks few hearts but has his own broken every week or so."

"Yeah… we'll see. He's so sweet, I can't imagine he'll be lonely for long, if that's what he wants."

"In any case, try to be around for him, will you? He'll need to keep asking you these questions."

"Yeah. Of course. If I live."

"You just might. You'll at least live long enough to help Genis through the tough times, when he becomes a failed lady-killer."

"Speaking of lady-killers," Lloyd said. A shadow on the horizon, one that could've passed for a bird to the unobservant eye, grew closer, reflecting the setting sun's light. As the rheiard approached, the sputtering of its engine became clearer with each swoop downward.

The vehicle landed in Dirk's yard with a screech, wind billowing through the trees and startling Noishe back into the bushes. Zelos slid from the machine, burlap sack of materials over his shoulder.

"That is the last time I do you guys a favor," he said. "That was literally the tallest mountain on the planet. I hate you."

Sheena dropped beside him, looking equally as exhausted. "We would've been here days ago if it weren't for that pesky Aska. Who the hell does he think he is, running off like that? Gods, I swear, just that one pact took me all the way around Sylvarant. Hell of a trip."

"But did you do it?" Lloyd asked eagerly.

"Yup. All mana links severed, and now we get to power the mana cannon."

Lloyd smiled. "Any word from Yuan?"

Sheena nodded. "He says that things are looking grim at the cannon's current location, so he's going to try to move it when he can. Good luck to him, I say; that thing is huge. He says that we have the go-ahead to make our way to Heimdall and make the pact when we've got the ring ready."

Lloyd nodded. So Yuan must be taking care of things on his end. That was a little comforting, at least.

"Now all we need to do is forge the ring and we're golden," Zelos said.

Easier said than done. Even with Dirk's expertise and the proper materials, the process was delicate, tedious and time-consuming. Lloyd did all he could to help—piling the sacred wood into the forge, fanning the flames for what seemed like hours as Dirk meticulously molded and hammered the necessary metals and compounds. They worked for a day and a half straight, never letting the fires die, never letting the metal grow cold. The others sat around, sometimes offering help, but mostly just drinking beer and discussing plans while Dirk and Lloyd worked their asses off.

When they were finally done, Lloyd collapsed in a corner, never prouder.

"You did good work, lad," Dirk said. "Surprisingly good. For a human."

Lloyd couldn't muster the strength to even thank him. He wiped sweat from his forehead, relieved that the job was done. "Well, I guess now we can go…" he started.

"Are you kidding?" Raine asked. "You need rest. We can leave tomorrow."

"Yeah… tomorrow."

Colette leaned over him and reached out a comforting hand, and he smiled at her. He could see that the green scurf of her disease had spread across her cheekbone, almost to her nose. He reached up and touched it before taking her hand and letting her lead him to the table, where some leftovers were waiting for him.

"It looks great," Sheena said, examining the ring.

"Don't you dare break it," Dirk said, seating himself at the table. "We worked damn hard on that."

"I know, I know," Sheena said. "Thank you, Dirk. For everything you've done."

"Och, I'm happy to help."

"Really," Colette put in, practically holding Lloyd upright so he could manage to take a few bites. "You never had to do this for us."

"Of course I did. What would it say about me if I refused to help the ones who're out to save the world?"

"Nothing very complimentary," Zelos said, grinning, and Sheena elbowed him in the stomach.

Lloyd sighed. It was done, and now he could go find his father… find a way to end all this, to make sure everyone got out alive. Well, everyone who possibly could. He and Colette still had a special place reserved for them on the west side of that transcendental island, where the pink water never grew cold and the lighthouse beacon never went out. He weakly hoped that they could put off that adventure for a little while longer. At least Colette might be able to, if Raine could manage to heal her illness. If so, Lloyd would just have to get everything ready for her when she came. And when he had the house built, the fires lit and the garden planted, he would wait at the edge of the water, or so that old song went.

*

In the quiet darkness of his desert base, Yuan lay across his desk, hands over his chest. He had thrown his paperwork onto the floor and now stared at the ceiling, wishing he could sleep, wishing he could just escape from all this. But he knew he couldn't. He knew he had to go back to that infernal mana cannon, make the unbearable trek through the war zone. He wished he could just leave it as it was, just leave everything, but this world needed him.

Gods, he had so much to do. Prepare the desert facility to house the cannon, get the cannon ready for transport… and that involved moving the damn gargantuan thing though the impenetrable horde of Mithos' henchmen. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. If only he had more soldiers… no, if only he could use his soldiers more effectively. Hell, you'd think that after he'd spent so many years at war, read so many books about it, he'd be better at this.

He heard a soft, dusty swish, and pricked up his sensitive ears. He recognized that gait, recognized the breathing, the slow heartbeat, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The intruder paused, running his fingers across the bookshelf, no doubt picking up the dust that gathered there.

"I'm surprised you still have time to read," Kratos said.

Yuan sighed. "I don't." He sat up. "What do you want? Are you here for a fight?"

"No. I'm here to ask you a favor." Kratos was disheveled, pale and dressed in clothes that were obviously not his own, but he looked a hell of a lot better than when Yuan last saw him.

"What favor?"

"Keep Lloyd out of this. After I release the seal and you go for the Eternal Sword, which is what I'm assuming is your plan, I want you to make sure he doesn't follow you up to Derris-Kharlan."

"Your son is unruly and stubborn. I can't guarantee anything."

Kratos smiled faintly, and Yuan thought he could spy new wrinkles on his ageless face. "I know you don't want to have the responsibility of some bastard's child foisted on you. But make sure he's okay. Please. I seem to have left him in the care of a teenaged girl. That cannot end well."

Yuan chuckled mirthlessly. "You really are a terrible father, you know that?"

"I know. After Mithos, I should've known better."

"It's not entirely your fault. About Mithos. We both let him get out of hand. And the world… well, the world was not made for a boy as sensitive as him. It took its toll on him, and we failed to protect him." He paused. "We failed to protect both of them."

"Yes. We did. So let's not fail to protect what's left to us."

Yuan thought of Botta. Of everyone he had killed. Of the cannon, of the future of the world. He swung his legs off the side of the desk and stretched. "You know, your son actually turned out all right. Impulsive, reckless, rude, stubborn, and frankly, a complete idiot. But still all right."

"His heart is in the right place," Kratos offered, but Yuan failed to find comfort in his words.

"Just like Mithos," he replied.

"Yes. Just like Mithos. Make sure Lloyd doesn't share his fate."

"I certainly will. The world doesn't need another self-righteous despot."

Yuan failed to mention exactly how he would keep Lloyd from turning out like their old companion. Kratos, however, did not seem to notice this detail missing. He turned to go, but hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. "Do you think we should've done it?"

"Done what?" Yuan pretended not to know what Kratos was talking about. The thought of it still made him slightly ill.

"Killed Mithos. Before he got too powerful. When we had the chance."

Yuan thought back to the long period of insane mourning after Martel had died, and decided that that would've been the perfect time to let Mithos join her and free the world from his tyranny. But at that point he hadn't lost faith enough in the boy to turn against him and stab him in the back. And besides, they were all racked with grief at Martel's passing. Murdering Mithos was the last thing on their minds.

"Yes," Yuan answered. "We should've killed him a long time ago."

"But we didn't. Why?"

_Because we loved him_ , Yuan thought. "I don't know," he said.

Kratos sighed and leaned against the doorframe as the automatic door slid open. "Promise me you won't go easy on him. We were always too easy on him." Kratos turned his head and stared at Yuan. "Make no mistake, he needs to die."

"You have no idea how lucky you are to be the one who doesn't have to do it."

Kratos put one foot through the door, but apparently he wasn't quite done. "Lloyd told me you had found a way to make me survive releasing the seal. Is it true, or were you lying to him to get him to cooperate?"

"A little of both," Yuan admitted. "I don't know if it will work, but I plan on being there when it happens. In which case, you can live to help me put an end to Mithos."

"Whatever you're planning, don't do it."

"I don't think you can stop me."

Kratos flashed him a frown but didn't say another word. Instead, he fled through the door and left Yuan alone in the cold dark.

*

"Zelos? Who were you talking to?" Lloyd asked. In the night air lit by the waxing half-moon, Zelos turned, surprised to see him.

"What?" he asked. "No one."

"Who was that woman?"

"What woman?"

Lloyd sighed. "Look. If you're gonna be doing this at night, you should at least tell Sheena."

Zelos looked at him for a moment. "Sheena? What's she got to do with… oh, oh, okay. Yes. Well, we already worked that out. Polyamory is all the rage, you know? Heh."

Lloyd spied a bead of sweat drip down Zelos' cheek. He frowned, but it wasn't his place to nose into Zelos and Sheena's undoubtedly complex relationship. He sighed. "Okay, but you know, you should really talk with her." It wasn't like Lloyd could stop Zelos from frolicking off on nightly trysts, but he should at least be better at hiding it, if he apparently felt guilty about them.

Zelos seemed eager to change the subject, even if it was to a displeasing one. "So, Lloyd. You know what's happening to Colette, don't you?"

Lloyd nodded and sat down on the soft grass. The smell of supper was still wafting pleasantly from Dirk's house a little ways down the road. Zelos sat beside him.

"So you know that you can't cure it, right?"

"Yes, we can," Lloyd said. "It's been done before. Raine can do it, she just needs all the materials. She says some of them can be bought, and she already has the unicorn horn. All we need now are a few herbs, so we're good."

Zelos shook his head. "Raine can't do it by herself. And there are no facilities in either world equipped for that sort of thing. And I doubt she'll get the right herbs anyway. They're the rarest on the planet."

Lloyd didn't want to believe him. "How do you know so much about it?" he asked sullenly.

"Because…" Zelos looked to the sky as if seeking an answer. "Because it's something only Chosens get, you know. We're all warned about it sometime or another. The priests don't like talking about it, but they have to. Every Chosen learns about it somehow, the easy way or the hard way. I could tell from the very beginning that she had it."

Anger pulsed through Lloyd when he thought of how Zelos could've possibly known about her disease before Lloyd did. Oh gods, he'd been undressing her when she couldn't say no, when nobody was looking, dammit, who knows what he'd done with her while she was incapacitated. "You asshole, how could you know that? Unless you did something to her—"

"Whoa, hold up, Lloyd!" Zelos raised his arms. "I didn't do shit. Give me a little credit, as a gentleman. I would never, I mean, unless she  _asked_ …"

"What's your point?" Lloyd growled.

"My point is that Chosens know these things. We know things about one another. That's all. It's a… um… it's a spiritual sort of thing, you know? Something a pleb like you couldn't understand. Look, I know you care about Colette, but you can't really do a thing for her, you get me?"

"So what, you're happy with just letting her die?"

"No, of course not. I want her to live just as much as you do. But there really is nothing we can do. I just wanted you to know that… you know, so you're prepared when the time comes."

Lloyd stood up. "We're leaving tomorrow. Get your stuff packed." Without another word, he walked down the road and strode back into the house.

*

Heimdall was exactly how Kratos remembered it. That wasn't unexpected, since for thousands of years it had eschewed all progress. The elven village was not a place that was subject to much change. Even the children took decades to grow, and it took an eternity for someone to die.

Heimdall had an air of timelessness to it, a sort of permanency about which Kratos remained ambivalent. Perhaps if he'd had a better past, he wouldn't mind the stillness, the quaintness, but he wasn't a man who was subject to nostalgia. In fact, he had a habit of actively avoiding things that reminded him of days long gone.

At the gate, he was greeted by name and escorted directly to the elder, who sat in his hut in silence. When Kratos came in, he looked up but didn't bother to stand.

"Is it that time already?" he asked.

Kratos nodded. "I will make my way through Treant to Origin. A summoner will no doubt come through sometime after me. My son will be with her. I request that you let him and his companions pass through the village."

"They shall have passage."

"And I suspect Yuan will be arriving as well."

"Why?" the elder asked suspiciously.

"I suppose it's because I cannot stop him," Kratos answered.

"I will not bend the rules to let a half-elf through the village," the elder said.

"You might have to."

"Yuan knows his way around the forest of the Treant. He will not have to come near the village. He will find his own way."

Kratos sighed. Elves were as stubborn as they were long-lived. It had taken him years to get them to forgive him for all he and Mithos had done, and even then it was more of a treaty than a pardon. It had taken so long for him to convince them to let him anywhere near their forest. But Kratos had insisted for years that as long as they shared a common enemy, they might as well work together.

"I have need of a sword," he said.

"You shall have one."

Kratos bowed. "Thank you." He turned to make his exit.

"Kratos," the elder said, quietly. "Do not fail. I fear that it will mean the end of everything we know."

Kratos nodded and silently left the elder's hut. An elven guard approached him with his requested sword, and he took it in his tired hands. It was strong, a little short for his tastes, but he would have to manage. After all, he had left Flamberge with Lloyd, and he was resolved not to regret that decision. He strode through the village and into the forest, thinking about what he would say to his son when he inevitably showed up.

Kratos knew he wouldn't be able to convince Lloyd to stay out of this, and leave this mess to those who had actually made it. He could hope that Yuan would force Lloyd to stay safe, but he knew better than that. Lloyd could be a hurricane when he set his mind to it, tireless and unstoppable.

_Please_ , he thought. _Please don't do anything that will hurt you._  Kratos knew his son's safety was far too much to ask of gods that had stopped listening to him ages ago.

He did not want to abandon Lloyd. He had never wanted to, but then again, he had never wanted him to live in this evil world in the first place, this product of his ancient twisted ideal. If the world had to be saved so Lloyd could live, he would do it. If it had to be destroyed so Lloyd could live, he would do it. If he had to live for Lloyd, he would, if he had to die for Lloyd, he would.

Gods, if his old self could see him now... so weary, so worn down, a slave to a son he had never planned to have. It looked like he had truly gotten nowhere these past four thousand years. He couldn't help smiling a little sadly as he trudged onward, through the green shadows, following a path he knew well. He had taken this same path thousands of times, for thousands of years. Each time he came here, the forest seemed smaller, less alive, becoming more and more like an illusion than an actual forest.

It was amazing how four thousand years of trekking the globe can make the world seem so small. It had been centuries since Kratos had thought of the universe as anything other than a prison. He had never been able to escape it, at least, not until now. He lost himself in thought as he walked through the woods, somewhat relieved that the end of his long internment was finally in sight. From the tall, thin bars of trees, he saw the monument to Origin shine in its clearing, unchanged and covered in moss. He approached it, running his hand across it to scrape off some of the invading plants.

He turned, stared into the darkening sky, and sat down. He lay his sword across his lap and crossed his legs. Here, he could keep his vigil. He would stay here for as long as it took. He could afford to wait. As long as he would be able to see Lloyd one last time, he would be content.


	29. Heimdall

The gate to the elven village of Heimdall was heavily guarded. Two elves stood at the entrance, spears in hand.

"Why do they look so pissed off?" Sheena muttered to Lloyd.

"Maybe they've had a bad day," he offered.

"I'll try to take care of this," Raine said, but the worry was apparent on her face. "I doubt… I doubt it will go well."

"Why?" Lloyd asked, but she had already approached the two guards. She stepped up and began to talk to them, gesticulating appealingly.

The elves spoke in a language Lloyd couldn't understand, but he could still tell they weren't happy to see him. For all Lloyd could understand, Raine seemed like she was being reasonable and polite, but the elves only brandished their spears at her, shouting angrily.

"What are they saying?" Lloyd asked her, but she only stared forward, expressionless.

One of the elf guards turned to Lloyd. "No half-breeds," he said. "Not allowed."

Sheena and Zelos looked at one another. "Um," Sheena started. "I think you're mistaken."

"They're not," Raine answered. The two, wide-eyed, recoiled in unison, but Raine seemed unfazed by their reaction. "Do what you will with that information."

"That's  _bullshit_!" Lloyd shouted. "Raine was born here, you can't just refuse to let her in. She hasn't done anything to you."

"It's all right, Lloyd," Raine sighed. "If our blood is a detriment to our cause, then Genis and I will stay here."

"Sis…" Genis hung his head and began to pick at his nails nervously.

The guards glanced at one another, then at Lloyd. They muttered something in elvish, but he heard his name repeated. One guard motioned to the other to go into the village, then approached Lloyd. "You are the son of Kratos?" he asked.

"Uh. Yeah."

"The elder has granted you and your companions passage. However. It failed to be mentioned that you had mixed blood with you."

"Maybe because that's not important." Lloyd grit his teeth. "What is wrong with you?"

The guard frowned. Likely he didn't understand. "The elder will send his word."

While they waited for the other elf to return, Raine faced her companions, held Genis close to her, and closed her eyes passively, as if expecting some sort of punishment. "I hope you can forgive us for failing to disclose our race to you," she said.

"Well… that's okay," Sheena replied, a little unsure of herself. "I can hardly blame you, really."

"I've known forever," Colette smiled. "You can't keep secrets from these ears."

Zelos, red-faced, seemed to be the only one who was overtly unhappy about this. "You, uh, don't happen to remember my joke, about the… um… 'a mercenary, a priest of Martel, and a half-elf walk into a bar' one, did you?"

Genis nodded. "It was pretty offensive."

"Not to mention revolting," Raine put in.

"Why didn't you  _tell_  me! My goddess, no wonder you guys were a tough crowd. Jeez, well…" Zelos rubbed the back of his neck, thinking hard. "Well… you guys are all right, I guess. I can… live with it."

Raine snorted with both derision and a little relief. "I'm glad."

An unbearably awkward silence followed, until the elven guard returned and cut it mercifully short. "The elder says they may pass. He has given his word, even if they have chosen to disrespect our customs."

Lloyd clenched his fists. "Disrespect my ass," he muttered quietly, half-hoping they'd hear him.

The village was small, eerily quiet, and smelled like fresh rain. The houses were low to the ground and covered in straw, arranged on fertile plots, shaded by trees. It was an intriguing, lovely place, but Lloyd didn't have time to explore it before he was forcibly escorted to the house of the elder. A tiny, ancient man sat on the floor, and barely lifted his wrinkled face to greet them when they came in. He whispered to one of his hunched assistants in that strange language, and she nodded. She stood and sized up their party, frowning.

"He says you are to stay the night here before you enter the Treant. He requests that you do not allow the half-bloods to leave their lodging. They will disturb the villagers and disrupt our lifestyle." Lloyd turned to see Raine's expression melt into sadness. When he again faced the elder, he hoped he didn't look too pissed off. "We will lead you to your place of rest," the elf continued. "You are to enter the forest come morning." She nodded her head and led them outside, across the small village and to a building that might've been an inn, but had none of the conventional human amenities.

The building consisted of one large room, with small mats lined up against the wall in lieu of beds. A narrow doorway led to what he figured might've been some sort of lavatory facility. He crept across the silent room and dropped his stuff on the farthest mat, scratching his head. He guessed the elves weren't exactly sticklers for privacy, but he didn't mind too much.

Colette lay her pack next to his, and sat on her flat pillow, crossing her legs. She folded her hands in her lap, and Lloyd stared at them for a moment. Her disease had made its way past her wrists, and he took a moment to reach down and touch her scaly skin, marveling at how quickly it had spread.

It began to rain late in the afternoon. The evening wore on, and they all sat in silence, listening to the patter of raindrops on the roof. Sometime before dark, an elven servant entered and placed before them a sparse and unappealing meal of dried fruits and dense bread. He nodded to them and left again without saying a word.

"Come and eat, Raine," Lloyd said, but she was plastered to the window, staring out at the village enveloped in grey mist.

"Come here, Genis, I want to show you something," she said quietly. Genis sighed and got up, walking to her side and staring out. "Over there, behind that big tree, you see that building? The small one with the roof caved in."

"Yeah, I see it," Genis said.

"That's where we used to live. That's where you were born."

Genis pushed himself up to the window, and the siblings stayed there, staring, fogging it with their breath.

"Hey, you guys," Lloyd said quietly, and they turned around. "If you want… you know, to go out there, I won't tell anyone. I'll keep guard. We can do it later tonight, when the town is asleep."

Raine shook her head. "I appreciate it, Lloyd, I really do. But the world comes first. We come later. If we have to stay inside so the elves will let us release Origin's seal, then so be it. We will return here after the world is at peace."

Lloyd sighed. "All right. I'm not gonna argue. But don't think that it means I'm okay with them cooping you up in here."

"Well, they can live vicariously through me," Zelos said, standing. "It's getting a little crowded in here, so I'm gonna go explore for a bit.

"In the rain?" Sheena asked.

"Yup. See ya." Zelos slammed the door behind him.

Lloyd, Colette and Sheena looked at one another, but said nothing. They finished their meal, lit a few oil lamps after the sun set, and huddled against the wet chill. Rain drummed against the roof and the window, distorting the grayish shadows of the evening.

"So, sis," Genis started, almost shyly. "What do you remember about this place?"

"Not very much," she answered. Genis looked disappointed, and she continued. "I remember you. I remember our mother's face, and the elder. I remember… the cruelty of the other children. And I remember our mother coming to my rescue. More than once." Raine lowered her head. "But I can't… I don't know if I truly remember these things, or if they were mentioned in Virginia's diary, and I've only internalized them. Memories… are fragile things, Genis. They're not always to be trusted. Some are true, some are false. Most are both."

"Well, what do you remember that  _wasn't_  in our mother's diary?"

"Well… there was a small tree in her yard, I remember… she told me she planted it on the day I was born. She planted a few flowers around it, and never mentioned it again." Raine shrugged. "I don't think she was very sentimental about her garden."

Genis laughed. "So you think it's grown now?"

"It's right out in front of the house. Go have another look if you want."

"I can't see it from here."

"Well," Raine offered, "instead of endangering ourselves now, we could simply stop by after we release the seal."

"Oh yeah," Genis said. "We'd be on our way out of here anyway, so it wouldn't matter if any elves found us and gave us the boot."

"Exactly."

"And Sheena and I will protect you if they try anything funny," Lloyd said.

"Thanks, you guys," Genis said.

"So, Colette, how is the skin doing?" Sheena asked.

The Chosen shrugged. The scales had almost made their way to the edges of her eyes, but she had not yet lost any movement in her face. "Sometimes it's hard to move my elbow, but it doesn't hurt too badly."

"Gods, what a lot in life you got," Sheena sighed. "Everything's out to kill you: first me, then the Regeneration journey, now this."

"It's just what happens, I guess," Colette almost smiled. "It's one of the risks of being a Chosen."

"Speaking of Chosens," Sheena said, leaning back and folding her hands behind her head. "Where's that idiot Zelos gone off to?"

"I suppose we might've scared him off, being half-elves," Raine said. "But honestly, he's known us long enough that I should hope it wouldn't change anything."

"It  _shouldn't_ ," Sheena said. "Whatever. He's an ass anyway. If he runs off because you guys are half-elves, then good riddance."

"He's been out there for a long time," Lloyd said. He hoped that Zelos wasn't off flirting with elf ladies, but he had a nagging suspicion that this was exactly what he was up to. Lloyd got to his feet. "I'll go look for him."

"Don't. It's pouring out there," Genis said.

"Yeah, he isn't worth getting wet over," Sheena said.

Lloyd frowned. He might have to concede that Zelos wasn't worth it, but he couldn't help but want to find out what the man was up to. He shook his head and opened the door, despite the protests of his companions. He stepped out into the rain, and shut the door behind him.

He tried to think up a place he would go if he were Zelos. As far as Lloyd knew, there were no bars or brothels or dinner clubs or theaters in the near vicinity, so that would make the search a lot harder. He supposed any one direction was just as good as the next, and started the search.

He didn't need to wander very far, since by the time he reached the edge of the village, Zelos was on his way back in. Lloyd wondered what business he had out there, and figured it was just probably another one of his trysts.

When Lloyd approached him, he saw that he was hiding something small under his jacket, trying to keep it out of the rain.

"Zelos," he said, and the Chosen smiled guiltily at him. "What on earth are you doing?" Zelos shrugged. "And what are you carrying?"

"Oh, this? Um, just flowers. For Raine, you know, as an apology for that joke. And all the other jokes. And everything."

Lloyd leaned forward and glanced at the bundle of plants that Zelos so carefully held under his jacket. "Those are weeds."

"Oh, um, well, if you must know… I have a bit of a smoking habit."

"Figures." That would explain why he was trying to keep them dry. Lloyd sighed a little and supposed this was probably one of the more harmless vices that Zelos had. Lloyd had once tried smoking in the alley behind the Academy, and it hadn't been tobacco. He hadn't really enjoyed it then; it had made him feel sluggish and a little nauseous, but Lloyd thought he might be able to use a good escape right now. "So, can I smoke with you?"

Zelos looked taken aback. "Lloyd! I didn't have you pinned as that kind of guy. You strike me as more of a binge drinker. But yeah. You can smoke with me sometime. Not this stuff, though. This could tranquilize a horse. Not for the faint of heart, for sure. Don't worry, though. I'll get you a little something-something later on." He winked and started heading back toward their abode, Lloyd in tow. "I know this guy in Altamira who has the best stuff on the market. On the planet, probably. Yup, only the best for the Chosen and his bud." When they reached the house, Zelos hesitated. "So… don't tell the others, all right? I don't want anyone to get all judgmental about it."

"Sure thing," Lloyd said, unconvinced. He was surprised that Zelos wouldn't invite Sheena to their illicit smoking session, since they seemed to do everything together, especially in these past few weeks. But as long as Zelos wasn't doing anything horribly wrong, he didn't see the issue with keeping his little habit a secret. Goddess knew he had worse ones.

"Lloyd," Zelos said as he placed his hand on the door handle.

"What?"

The Chosen tucked the little weed into his pocket before lowering his gaze. "Nothing."

"All right, then. Weirdo."

Lloyd opened the door and retreated into the dry, warm light of the small building. Zelos followed and closed the door behind him, shutting out the darkness and the rain.

*

Yuan stared into the screen, heart in his throat. The little dots of his soldiers scurried like ants, rushing to load the dismantled cannon onto the warship. Getting the dreadnaught to the remote island ranch had been hell, he didn't want to imagine how hard it would be to get it back out again. And with Desians crawling about the place—not to mention a few contingents of angels—it would only get harder.

He clenched his fists. "Come on," he muttered at the tiny soldiers on the other side of the screen. "Hurry, before more of them come."

Retrieving the mana cannon had gone well, until it hadn't. The fortress in the sea had been difficult to infiltrate, but they had managed to wrest it successfully from Rodyle, with a little help. The true test had come when they had to get a warship big enough for the cannon through the Desian-occupied waters in one piece. And it didn't help that backup came in the form of Mithos' holy legions.

The outer wall of the former ranch had been breached that morning, and angels flooded the lower levels. The Renegades had managed to barricade themselves in the control center, and had recently retaken the docking bay in order to load the cannon onto the warship. But they all knew they couldn't hold out for long. They were desperately outnumbered and Mithos had sent wave after wave of angelic battalions, wearing them down and picking them off one by one, until only a fraction of their original force remained.

Yuan grit his teeth and watched the screen, arms shaking. They were running out of time. Their fortifications were due to fall any day now, and the process of dismantling and loading had been taking so long…

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice a tall, elegant figure appear behind him. He didn't notice it approach, feet floating a few inches off the ground. He didn't know he wasn't alone until the figure spoke in a cruel, soft voice.

"Hello, Yuan."

Yuan didn't need to turn around to know who it was. He froze, not daring to move. His eyes darted back and forth, from the screen to the buttons surrounding it, back to the screen. He swiftly considered his only two options. He could order the Renegades to keep loading the cannon onto the warship and try to escape before angels descended on them, or he could tell them to scatter, to save themselves, to give up the cannon in exchange for their lives. He desperately weighed the two, trying to measure gains and losses, slaughter and escape.

He quickly reached out and nearly smashed a button on the side of the screen. "Abort!" he shouted into the microphone. "Abort! Make for escape—"

He didn't have time to finish his command before he was struck on the side of the head. His vision blurred and he flew into the wall, barely landing on his feet. He reached out his arm and tried to summon his weapon, but Mithos was already there, extending a hand, light and power bursting at the tips of his fingers.

An explosion of light hit Yuan's stomach and he stumbled sideways. Mithos raised his hand again, summoning a stream of power, and blasted a smoldering hole in the wall where Yuan had just been. The unmistakable scent of burnt hair filled the room, and Yuan dodged once more, outrunning the spells that Mithos threw again and again.

"I find it so  _terribly_  funny you think you can get away with this," Mithos said, chasing him across the room. "You always were an arrogant little swine."

Yuan jumped aside as a pillar of light burst into the floor before him, melting the metal. His muscles were on fire, his vision was blurry, he was still reeling from that solid smash to the side of the head. He swung his arm and threw a spell back at Mithos, but the boy dodged it easily, flashing him a wide smile.

"I don't want to play this anymore, Yuan," Yggdrasill said, raising his hands and summoning a wave of air. He threw his arms downward, and Yuan was pushed back into the computer's interface, smashing glass and bending metal under his aching back. He crumpled to the floor, trying to pull himself up, but he couldn't find the strength. The boy stood over him, laying a foot on his shoulder.

"Where is he?" Mithos growled.

"Who?"

Mithos kicked Yuan across the face, and he saw blood fly onto the metal floor. "Kratos. Where the hell is Kratos? You have him, don't you?"

"No," Yuan answered, and got another kick to the face.

"Then where did he go?" Mithos demanded.

"Damned if I know," Yuan groaned, weaving a spell in his fingers, where Mithos couldn't see. He reached up and cast it, and his opponent flew into the opposite wall with a pained cry.

Yuan tried to get to his feet, but he only managed to tremble to one knee. He was just too weak, worn down from holding the fort. And Mithos, well, he had never been stronger. The boy recovered and made his way across the room to him, angrier than before, and raised his hands. Yuan lifted his arms in defense, but it didn't help when the impact of the spell hit him. Fire tore through his veins, burning every inch of his insides, searing his bones. Yuan couldn't help the cry that rose in his throat. Mithos bent over him, kicking his ribs, his neck, his chest. Yuan curled on his side, agony rushing through him.

"Where the hell is he, Yuan?" A kick for each syllable now: "Where. Is. He?"

Yuan struggled to catch his breath.  _Just tell him_ , his agonized body said.  _Don't you dare tell him_ , his mind replied. "He… he went… to find his son."

Mithos ceased his pummeling and leaned over Yuan. He turned him over with his foot. "Where?" he asked.

"A…" Yuan thought for a moment, head burning. "A… Asgard."

"You don't sound so sure of that." Mithos put a knee on Yuan's chest and leaned in, sending pangs of sharp pain through his ribs.

"I'm… not. They… move around."

"Dammit!" Mithos screamed, and stomped downward, onto Yuan's stomach. He curled in tortured spasms, coughing and clutching his abdomen. "I'm gonna kill that little prick! I'm gonna  _kill_  him! Thinks he has the gall to just take Kratos. I'm gonna rip him apart…"

And before Yuan could take a breath, Mithos was on him again, pinning him down. He wrapped his hands around his neck and Yuan's sight blurred, a grayish haze creeping in from the edge of his vision. He gasped, clawing at Mithos, trying to push him off, but the fingers around his throat only gripped tighter.

Right when Yuan was ready to give up, to go limp and let the darkness swallow him, Mithos let go. "Ha!" he roared with delight. "You think I was gonna kill you fast? Don't count on it. The game's no fun if it ends early."

Yuan wheezed, sight slowly returning. A hot streak of blood trickled down the side of his face and into his ear. Mithos leaned over him, grabbing his hand and pulling it upward. "I've always hated this thing," the boy said, isolating his ring finger and pulling at it. "You don't really deserve it, though. Maybe I'll keep it."

_No_ , Yuan thought.  _Not that._

"Damn," Mithos grunted, struggling to pull his ring off his finger. "Maybe I'll just have to cut the whole thing off."

Yuan groaned, trying to wrestle his hand back. Mithos struggled with it a moment longer, but managed to pull the ring off in a small spray of slippery blood. Eventually Mithos stood, ring in hand, grinning. He looked it over before glancing back down to Yuan.

"Try not to die while I'm gone. I'll be back to finish our game." Mithos laughed and gave him a parting kick to the ribs. He slunk back into the silvery shadows, disappearing with a rush of white light.

When he was sure he was alone, Yuan dared to breathe again. Every intake of air sent pangs of agony through him, but after a few minutes of lying there and gasping shallowly, he grabbed the debris nearest to him and used it to pull himself up into a sitting position. He could barely move his head, and his legs felt like two crumbling, useless rocks.

_Martel_ , he thought miserably.  _Have mercy on the little bastard when I send him to you._  Yuan closed his eyes and told himself to get up.

_What would Botta think if he saw you sitting here, limp as a willow branch? Get your ass up, get up, I know it hurts, but you have work left to do. You have a seal to break, a world to fix. Get up, you bastard. Kratos will be at Origin's shrine soon, if he isn't already. You'll be late. You'll be too late._

_No, I need rest._

_Get up._

_Just a little rest._

Yuan leaned back and lifted his head, laying it against the metal surface of what was left of the ranch's computer interface.  _Yes, just a little rest,_  he thought.  _Then I'll get up, then I'll do what needs to be done. I will find them, I will save Kratos, and the world. I will save everyone._

A pool of blood formed below him, but he didn't notice it. He closed his eyes.

_Just a little rest._

_Then…_

_Rest._


	30. The Seal

The forest of the Treant smelled like fresh rain and wet leaves. The sun shone down from the cloudless sky, lighting up the early morning mist with a golden glow. By mid-morning, the heat had banished all of the lingering fog, and their path was clear. Their elven guide, who had led them far into the woods, suddenly halted. Lloyd put a hand on his sword hilt, not sure if the elf had seen some monster lurking in the shadows, but their guide did not seem to sense danger. He only turned to them and spoke stiltedly, "This is where I stop. Down this path is Origin. Stay on the path. If you stray, you'll end up lost. Dead."

Lloyd gulped. "All right," he said.

The elf didn't wait for any questions. He simply wrapped his cloak tighter around him and set off back toward the village, giving Raine and Genis a wide berth.

 _Asshole_ , Lloyd couldn't help thinking. But he didn't stick around to watch the elf leave. Instead he faced his path and led the others toward Origin, and toward his father.

So far, none of them had heard a peep from Yuan. Lloyd worried that perhaps something had happened to him, or that he deemed other business more important to attend to than saving Kratos. But Lloyd couldn't help him, couldn't urge him to hurry up, not when he was halfway around the world. Yuan was quick, he was sly, and he had an uncanny way of getting from one point to another without actually having to trek the distance in between. Lloyd would only have to trust that he would get there in time. For now, he had no choice but to make his way toward the clearing that housed Origin's shrine, and his seal. Maybe Lloyd could convince his father to hold off, at least until Yuan got there. Then they could all walk away from this alive.

When Origin's monument came into view, Lloyd could see his father sitting silently in its shadow, a sword across his lap. His wet hair was plastered against his forehead, and Lloyd realized he must've sat out here in the rain all night. It seemed he hadn't been bothered by the downpour; his closed eyes and motionless body exuded an air of tranquility. He looked like he might've been asleep, but his ears pricked up at their approach, and he opened his eyes.

"Is Yuan with you?" he asked.

"No," Lloyd answered.

"Good." Kratos stood. He stepped forward, toward Lloyd, and reached out his hand.

Lloyd backed up, not sure what he was trying to do. "Wait," he said. "Wait for a while, at least until Yuan gets here. You can't release the seal until then."

"And you're going to stop me?" Kratos said, half-smiling.

 _Don't be like this, dad,_  Lloyd thought.  _Don't be like you always are. Please, just this once, listen to me._  Lloyd knew he couldn't convince his father to wait—for his whole life he had never been able to convince his father of anything. He knew it was going to be as it always had been; earnest opposition with no room for compromises. Instead of kneeling and begging his father to reconsider, instead of trying to placate him or uselessly reason with him, Lloyd drew Flamberge.

"Yeah. I am." Kratos looked at the weapon's blade shining orange in the morning light, then back at Lloyd. "I'm gonna make you a deal," he continued. "One last training session. If I beat you, you have to wait for Yuan to get here. If you win… then you get to release the seal."

Kratos' eyes narrowed and his lips parted in a slight smile. "Agreed."

"Good. And don't expect to win."

Kratos' smirk broke out into a full-fledged grin, and he drew his own sword from its leather scabbard.

"Lloyd, don't—" Raine started.

"This is between us," Lloyd growled, raising Flamberge. Both his exspheres began to pulse. His right one warmed his arm, sending strength through it, and his left, well, it was behaving as usual. It jolted his muscles, releasing that too familiar anger, expelling any reluctance that may have held him back. The little stone was not going to let its host die, not quite yet, not until it had eaten its fill.  _Go on,_  the stone told him.  _He killed your mother, he deserves no mercy. Do not let yourself die by his hand. Do not let yourself be weak._

By the time Kratos made the first move, Lloyd was ready, filled with that unstoppable strength. His father came at him, sword tip outthrust, and Lloyd swept it aside. The ring of the blade sent a tremor down his arm, alighting his exspheres with an energizing flame. Kratos bore down on him with blow after blow, but he managed to parry each one, sidestepping and sliding back on the defensive. He hadn't expected his father to be so strong, especially after his ordeal, especially since it hadn't been too long ago that he could barely walk.

Undeniably, Kratos was formidable. But then again, so was Lloyd. He had suffered enough, fought enough, lost enough… he had fed his exspheres enough blood and pain to fuel their enormous fires. His mother's pulsed on his right hand, sending waves of energy through him, guiding his sword, arcing the blade up to meet Kratos'. His own exsphere continued to pump his blood with the blinding, black pain that he had grown so used to. It jogged his muscles into action, compelling them almost against his will.

Somehow, the two stones managed to communicate to one another through him, and when he lifted his sword to attack, he didn't think, he didn't plan, he just acted, propelled by the stones. He had to submit, had to let the stones guide his movements, since each wrestled over him with such power it was impossible to suppress them both. Somehow, the exsphere that had killed his mother and the exsphere that would kill him very soon both managed to keep him alive—at least for the moment.

He swept aside one of his father's thrusts and raised Flamberge, power surging through his arms. He brought it down on Kratos, who only had time to lift his sword in defense as Lloyd hammered down on him, swinging again and again, sword ringing, muscles burning. Underneath the overpowering sound of metal on metal, and below the sparks that flew with each blow, Lloyd could see his father's face, his youthful, elegant mouth curl into a smile. In his eyes danced something grander than fear or hatred, larger than the petty emotions that drove Lloyd to swing down at him. In the split-seconds between clashes, Lloyd tried to figure out what was making his father smile like that.

 _What's he got to be so happy about?_  Lloyd shouted inwardly, hacking away at his father's defenses. Lloyd didn't know if it was him that asked that question, or the black fire that flowed through his veins. In his anger, his confusion, he just had to find out what could make his father smile at a time like this. He had to end the fight, he had to sweep away his father's sword so he could discover what it was. He needed to know, needed to know  _now_ , so that he could take whatever it was and... for a tiny moment, he was unsure what he would do with such a power, and then it dawned on him.

Strangely enough, it was on the other end of a sword pointed at his father's throat that Lloyd realized all he wanted was for his father to be content. It was a baffling moment for Lloyd to fill up with love, but before he knew it, the pain and anger that drove his sword's path disappeared, replaced by the strength of surety. He emptied himself of that black blood so familiar to him, and in a heart-stopping moment of forceful compassion, he twitched Flamberge around the hilt of Kratos' sword and jerked it from his grasp. As the sword spun through the air and planted itself in the dirt, Lloyd could hear Kratos push out a breathy laugh.

As Lloyd rested Flamberge against Kratos' helpless chest, he released a sigh of relief. Kratos looked up at him, eyes shining, and grinned. "Excellent," he said. "Absolutely perfect."

"I'm… glad you enjoyed it," Lloyd panted. He let himself smile. "I've never seen you happier."

"I truly am proud of you, Lloyd. You really can take care of yourself." He stood, and Lloyd let loose another sigh, happy his father had conceded defeat. Lloyd dropped Flamberge and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Well. Now I guess we'll wait for Yuan, then," he said.

Kratos put one hand on Lloyd's shoulder, and took his diseased arm in the other. "No. We won't."

Lloyd's relief, his joy, melted away in an instant. "But," he started, "we had a deal."

Kratos squeezed his hand, sending a jolt of pain through his sick skin. "I'm sorry." He drew Lloyd close. "I need you to stay alive for me."

Before Lloyd had the opportunity to protest, before he could get a grip on himself and push his father away, Kratos lowered his head and his enigmatic wings sprouted from his back. Lloyd felt something like burning light surge through him, filling his veins and muscles. It was almost pleasant, but it tingled with an unbelievable amount of power.  _Mana_ , he realized.  _This is mana._  It may have been Origin's mana, it may have been his father's, or it may have been his own—he didn't know. But it was soothing, almost somnolent. He closed his eyes, caught up momentarily in the current of life itself.

But the pleasurable sensation lasted only a second; it soon sparked out of existence and a burning agony took its place. Lloyd was seized from his restful passivity, and he began to struggle. He couldn't escape the light, the pain, he couldn't move, couldn't speak. His father gripped his hand so tightly he was sure it was going to break, he could almost feel his bones coming apart and his muscles peeling away. The current of mana around him was too strong, too bright—he lost control of his body. Every inch of him felt like it was ripping itself apart. His vision filled with flashes of light and he went blind with pain. His jaw clenched, his eyes rolled, and he could barely scream as the agony and power threatened to tear him to pieces.

He was lost to the world around him; he could hear nothing but his own tortured moans. His arm felt like it was being skinned, like it was being torn off, cut apart, oh gods, he would do anything to stop it, anything,  _please_ … He screamed inwardly and outwardly, pleading with any god that would listen, pleading with his father.

And then the pain was gone. Lloyd's sight returned, and for a fleeting, surreal moment, he saw a yellow glow coming off of both of them like steam. His father stood before him, enveloped in a halo of light, eyes closed. Weakness overtook Lloyd and he fell to his knees, gasping. For a second he thought this must be a dream, a torturous, metaphorical dream, since when he looked at his father's arm he found that it was monstrous, scaly, covered in bulging green veins. Lloyd dared himself to glance down at his own diseased arm and discovered it wasn't diseased at all.

 _What have you done?_  Lloyd asked silently. As his father fell to the ground before him, a tiny red exsphere dropped from between his limp fingers and into the grass.

Lloyd crawled to him, lifting his head in his arms.

"Dad, what did you do?" he said.

Kratos didn't answer, so Lloyd shook him.

"Come on, you bastard. Wake up. Tell me what you did."

Lloyd lowered his head to his father's chest, listening for that slow, steady heartbeat, but he heard nothing. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. He couldn't think, he couldn't see. He didn't notice the massive spirit appear behind him, he didn't notice Sheena approach with her ring held out in offering, he didn't notice his companions step up to Origin's monument. To Lloyd, the meadow was filled with only a vast and all-encompassing silence. All he could see was his father, lying still in his arms.

"We had a deal," Lloyd said quietly, heart wrung out like a damp cloth. "Wake up." Kratos' mouth was upturned slightly, as if he knew something Lloyd didn't. "You bastard… you dirty low-down cheating bastard… get up." His lungs seemed to have stopped working, his throat tightened painfully, and he couldn't stifle the sobs that rose from him. A hollow, meaningless longing took him over, assuring him that if if he could become air and follow his cries into the distance, he could leave all this behind, leave his body, leave his bastard father, leave everything…

"Lloyd." Amid the gales of his agonized cries and the din of the pact-making behind him, Lloyd heard his name and looked up.

Yuan knelt before him, bloodied and ragged, face swollen. His clothes were torn and stained with red, his movements slow and reluctant. Lloyd didn't ask what had happened to him. "Hand him over to me. I will give him some of my mana."

Lloyd choked down a sob, not wanting to relinquish his father, but he let Yuan take Kratos in his trembling, blood-caked arms, and drag him backwards, to the safe shade of a nearby tree. Lloyd plucked the red exsphere up from the grass and scrambled after them.

Yuan shot him a look that stopped him in his tracks. "Lloyd. I will stay here and do what I can for him. You need to go. You need to find Mithos and kill him. Get the Eternal Sword. Save the worlds."

"No!" He knew that whatever had happened to Yuan left him in no state to take on Mithos, but Lloyd wasn't exactly at his best, either. At this point all he wanted to do was take his father in his arms and shake him awake. "I'm staying with him."

"Listen to me, you dumb little bastard," Yuan hissed. "If you don't do it, and do it now, all this will be for nothing! You want your father to wake up and find you failed him? Failed the world?"

Lloyd froze, trying to hold in his voice, his anger. Yuan was right, and he hated it. He forced himself to stand, and clenched his exsphere tightly in his hand.

By the time he regained his composure and turned around, the din of the scuffle with Origin had died down. The spirit had been subdued and the pact made, and Lloyd had been so caught up in himself he hadn't even witnessed it. When his mind caught up to his body, he saw Sheena before him, ragged but unharmed, a determined look on her face. When she saw Yuan, she stepped forward. "Is the mana cannon—"

"The mana cannon was a failure," he said. "Forget it. Forget everything. Help Lloyd get to the Tower, help him kill Mithos, those are my only orders."

Sheena nodded, glancing from Yuan's face to Kratos', then back to Lloyd.

"Let's go," Lloyd told her. He clutched the exsphere in his hand and made his way to the edge of the clearing. "Yuan will take care of my dad." When he reached the trees, he turned around one last time. "He'd better be alive when I get back." Yuan gave him a slow, noncommittal nod.

Lloyd strode through the woods, biting his lip, keeping his cries inside. The others followed silently, occasionally looking behind them to see Yuan cradling Kratos, hand hovering over him, healing light blazing. Lloyd didn't look behind him, he only pressed onward, toward the village, toward the Tower, toward Mithos.

*

Yuan sat in the shadows of the trees, Kratos' pale head on his lap, exhausted, wounded, and utterly distraught. When he was sure Lloyd and his group were far enough away that they wouldn't see him, he lowered his hand and lay it on Kratos' shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he started, voice raspy. "I was a little late. Mithos held me up. But I guess... I guess we always knew it would end this way. It probably  _should_ end this way. After all, we've lived so much longer than we should've. The world no longer belongs to us." He stared at Kratos' deformed arm. "That was a clever little trick you did, redirecting his exsphere's mana. I suppose he wouldn't have survived it otherwise. Or he would've become... well, it's not like you haven't seen those monsters before. Have you been planning that stunt this whole time?" Kratos didn't answer. Yuan sighed. "Lloyd will be very displeased with us when he comes back." He glanced up to the sky. "We might as well take care of our bodies, at least." He cast a preservative spell over them, and leaned back against the trunk. He thought that if he was lucky, he might be able to bleed out here, against this tree, and not have to face Lloyd when he came back. If he came back. He smiled, cursing himself for being such a coward. "Do you think I sent your son to his death?" he asked Kratos. "I don't. I think he'll do a better job than I ever could. I… for years I kept telling myself that I could kill Mithos, that I  _must_  kill him, but you know what? I couldn't. I never could. I put off the day that I would have to face him, face the memory of Martel, because I was too weak. I was weak, just like you." He stared into the forest where Lloyd had disappeared. "But I think your son is different. I think he can do it." Yuan paused, and trembled slightly. The tremor moved up his spine, through his lungs, and emerged from his mouth as a pained laugh. "Who am I kidding? I'm going to die here, and Lloyd is going to die up at the top of that tower. Maybe the world was meant to fall into Mithos' hands. Maybe it will be better for us, if he takes humanity's mind and soul. If you have no will at all you haven't the will to do harm." He glanced again at Kratos' unmoving face. "We'll just be lucky enough not to witness it."

He stared into the shadowy trees for what seemed like hours. He felt the last of his strength drain, the last of his blood and mana drip from his wounds. He took a moment to laugh, and hoped that at least the elves might give him a proper burial. He doubted it—he was, after all, a half-elf. "Well, old friend," he sighed. "We may have destroyed the world. Not many people can say that they've accomplished that." He closed his eyes, and a slight breeze tickled his skin. "Good luck, Lloyd. Don't screw up."


	31. The Last Visit

Lloyd held the little exsphere in his hand, examining it closely. It looked harmless, smooth, its constant bloody glow now dulled to a dead, flat red. He couldn't believe that this tiny thing had nearly killed him.

Raine was equally as fascinated with the small stone. She hovered over him, watching him turn it this way and that in his hands, asking how he felt and prodding his skin. He had no pain, only a cold, weird feeling in his arm, like it was suddenly naked after having spent months under the garments of the exsphere's strange infection.

"That was a considerable surge of mana you had, when he took that off you," she told him.

Lloyd thought of the stories of the ranch prisoners who had their exspheres go out of control. He thought of senseless, violent monsters, of his mother. "Sometimes… I didn't see it myself, but at the ranch, when they would forcibly remove an exsphere, sometimes the person would… change. They would go insane. They would become some sort of sick monster. One guy said it was the mana. He said that was what turned them into monsters, that ate their minds."

"Your father must've been absorbing that mana and releasing it into the environment," Raine scratched her chin. "Along with his own." She looked at Lloyd's face, at his sullen, hopeless frown, and lowered her head. "No matter. I will ask him how it was done when we get back from all this."

Lloyd wasn't so sure she could. He swallowed a lump in his throat and made a fist. For the first time since they had left the forest of the Treant, he put his exsphere back on. It felt dull, secure, much like the one on his opposite hand. He intertwined his fingers and looked at them side by side.  _My mother and me,_  he thought. They looked kind of good together, now that one wasn't trying to sap his life.

He couldn't much rejoice in having gained his time back. He couldn't revel in the fact that he had survived his own exsphere and now could use it as he wished. He couldn't even celebrate the fact that the black hatred he had slowly grown inside him had disappeared, and left only determination.

Colette was still sick. She still might die while he still might live, and that was much worse.

He stared out across the field, to the silhouette of the Tower of Salvation, looming tall and threatening in the distance, blackening in the rapidly setting sun. He clenched his fists, and as if knowing that he was thinking of her, Colette's hand slipped into his.

"I'm sorry, Colette," he said.

"Don't be."

"I promise, I'm not going to leave you behind. I'm not going to let you die."

"I know." He turned to her to see her smiling slightly. "Raine is going to start my medicine tonight. She says she thinks she has all the necessary ingredients." Lloyd thought back to Zelos' words of wisdom, his pessimistic warning that whatever they tried, they would not be able to cure her. He stared into the distance, at the Tower's looming shadow.

"Are you scared?" he asked her.

"A little. Yes."

"Me too." He stared for a few more moments, holding her hand in his. "How did you do it, Colette?" he asked. "How did you go on a journey knowing you would die at the end? How come you were always so calm, how did you stand the pain?"

Colette sighed. "I… the real reason I was able to stand all this, get through all this, is because… I love the world, Lloyd. It's given me so many things. You, Genis, the professor, my friends, my family, my life. It's given me laughter. But…" she paused for a moment. "It's taken many things away, too. My grandmother always said that was how life was. Ten thousand joys, ten thousand sorrows. And it's the sorrows that make the joys so sweet." She wrapped her hands around his arm and pulled him close. "It may be bad right now, but there will be joy again. Think of what you'll do when this is all over. Your apprenticeship. Your father. Think of how proud he'll be when you return."

Lloyd's stomach turned at the thought of his father. Somewhere, deep in his heart, there was that gaping hole where Kratos had been, and Lloyd knew that if he wasn't dead already he was sure as hell close.

Colette must've sensed his thoughts turning sour, so she put a hand on his cheek and kissed his forehead. She retook his hand and stood, nudging him back toward camp.

Genis was busy starting a fire, Raine was searching through her bag for something, and Sheena was organizing her spells and cards, preparing for whatever came. Zelos sat back against a rock, staring at the sky, humming to himself. He seemed oddly nonchalant about this whole ordeal, but then again, Zelos was oddly nonchalant about nearly everything.

Lloyd and Colette sat down next to Raine, watching her lay out her medicines. "I think I have everything Boltzmann says I should," Raine said. "Colette, I want to watch you during your recovery. I hope that perhaps we can learn more about Chronic Angelus Crystallus Officium. Boltzmann is unbelievably vague about the whole thing, and I can't find any more comprehensible accounts of your illness in any Tethe'allan texts." She sighed. "I should think that they would have at least a few, being as advanced as they are. But the disease is so rare, so this… this cure may be a little experimental."

"It's okay," Colette said. "I don't mind being experimented on a little."

Raine smiled, then glanced back at her pack. "Oh. Forgot one thing." She rummaged through it, talking to herself, and when she didn't find what she was looking for, she grabbed the whole bag and shook it, emptying its contents onto the ground. "Shit," she said. It was the only time Lloyd had heard her swear. "Where is it… The unicorn horn. It's not here." She sat back and looked around, panicking.

"Well, could you have accidentally put it in someone else's bag?" Lloyd asked.

"Give me more credit, Lloyd," she snapped. "A good physician keeps her medicines organized. No, I swear I had it earlier. Yes, I had it at Heimdall."

"Well, we'll check our bags, just in case," Lloyd said.

At Lloyd's command, everyone went through his or her pack, looking for the elusive horn, but nothing turned up.

"Did you leave it somewhere?" Genis asked.

"No. I'm sure I didn't…" Raine put her hand to her forehead and groaned. "What a waste I am."

"Hey there, don't worry about it," Zelos said. "I'm sure it'll turn up. But really, think about it. Is now really the time to start Colette on an experimental trial? What about when this is all done? When the world's at peace, we can go look for the horn and get Colette right as rain again."

Raine looked up at him. "Perhaps, for once, you're correct. There will be no point in curing Colette if Yggdrasill gets his way." She looked over at the girl in question. "Are you all right, Colette? Do you think you can hold out for a little while longer?"

Colette nodded. "Remember what you said in Heimdall. The world comes first, we come later."

Raine hung her head, as if she regretted ever mentioning it. "All right, Colette. But please, please let me know if you need anything. If you're in pain, if you need my help, tell me." Colette nodded, and Raine gave her an incredulous look. "Lloyd, if she needs anything, come to me and ask, because she certainly won't."

Lloyd looked over at Colette and she smiled in return. She did have a poor record of complaining, especially if it meant worrying her companions. But Lloyd knew she was already in pain, and that Raine probably couldn't help her much. And he knew she was strong enough to endure it, at least until the world was safe. It pained him to see her like this, but he knew as well as the rest of them that their best chance for giving Colette the long life she deserved was to take out Mithos first, and let the unicorn horn come later.

Zelos, who was alarmingly cool about this, sat by himself, cleaning his knife. When he stood up and announced he had to take a leak, Lloyd waited a minute or two and then followed him out into the darkness. He half-expected to find Zelos with a woman, since he seemed to be so good at miraculously producing them in isolated locales. But he found Zelos alone, some distance away from where they were camped, staring at the Tower.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Whoa!" Zelos clutched his chest and turned around. "Way to sneak up on me."

Lloyd narrowed his eyes at him. "I know there's something you're not telling me. I think you know way more about Colette's sickness than you let on."

"What? No…" Zelos said, sweating.

"Why do I have this feeling like I should cut you down where you stand, right now?" Lloyd threatened, hand twitching to Flamberge's hilt.

Zelos laughed. "Oh, Lloyd, all men think that about me at one time or another. It's just jealousy. It'll pass."

Lloyd wasn't convinced. "What are you up to, Zelos?"

The Chosen's smirk came across as partially honest. "When I said that you guys wouldn't be able to cure Colette, I meant it. You can't. That Boltzmann book isn't entirely correct."

"And you know this because you're the Chosen?" Lloyd asked suspiciously.

"Bingo." Zelos narrowed his eyes at him.

"I don't believe you." Lloyd rested his hand on Flamberge's pommel. With his evil exsphere under his control, he found that he could resist pulling it from its scabbard.

Zelos watched his hand on the sword hilt, unfazed. "Lloyd. Do you want Colette to live or not?"

"Of course I want her to live."

"Then you gotta trust me."

Lloyd cringed, looking Zelos over. The man was impenetrable; his look was devoid of any hidden meaning, his smile was lazy and arrogant, as usual. Even his blue eyes betrayed nothing. Lloyd sighed, and removed his hand from Flamberge. "Fine. I'll trust you. But if you do anything funny to Colette, I'll cut your hands off."

Zelos shrugged. "Sounds fair. Now can a guy take a piss without being watched?"

Lloyd groaned and turned toward their camp. "Get some rest," he said. "We're going up the Tower at dawn."

*

Before the others awoke, Zelos crept into camp and found Colette in her usual place, sitting at Lloyd's head, hovering over him while he slept. Personally, Zelos thought her watching him sleep all the time was a bit clingy, perhaps even a little creepy, but what some may find disturbing others may find endearing. Zelos had had enough experience in love and sex to know that everything was contingent on personal tastes. To each their own, as it went.

"Zelos," she whispered when she saw that he was awake. "What are you doing up?"

"Shh, not so loud, hunny." He gave her his most charming smile, and removed what he had been hiding behind his back.

"Oh," Colette's spontaneous grin warmed his heart. "Thank you, Zelos." She took the little package from him, tied in brown paper and complete with a big red bow.

"It's a get-well present," he said.

"This is, um, very nice of you." She looked the package over. "Is it a bottle of wine?"

Zelos smiled. "No, it's much more therapeutic than that."

"Thank you, Zelos, really. But you know, you could've waited to give this to me. Until after all this is done."

"No, I really don't think I could've." She gave him a winsomely confused look. "You need to hang onto that. For dear life, do you hear me? Keep it with you, and don't open it until you know it's time."

"Uh, okay," Colette smiled nervously. "Is it a bomb or something?"

"Ha!" Zelos covered his mouth, hoping that he hadn't woken everyone up. He looked around—all was quiet. "You're as cute as a button, Colette." He pinched her nose gently. "Now, stick that in your pack and keep it safe. Make sure it's with you at all times, okay? Also, let's keep this between us. Lloyd might feel bad if he knew I got you a present and he didn't."

Colette frowned but stuck the little gift safely away in her bag. When it was out of sight, Zelos sat down on his bedding and watched the sunrise. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head, and decided to enjoy these last few moments of peace.  _This is gonna be one hell of a day,_  he thought.

*

Colette reached out her hand and fiddled with the apparatus that opened the door to the Tower. She struggled with it for a few minutes before calling Zelos over. Since he was the Tethe'allan Chosen, he might be able to open this end of the Tower, even if she couldn't.

Lloyd watched Zelos lean over Colette and boiled inside a little. He clenched his fists, wanting to yank the two apart, but Raine was beside him, with a hand on his arm. "Lloyd. Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he lied.

She squeezed it gently. "What are you going to do when this is all over?" she asked.

"I don't know. I was thinking of taking Dirk's apprenticeship. But there's so much more that needs to be done after this. Killing Mithos won't fix everything, so… I guess this is just the beginning." He sighed.

"It's all right to take a break, you know," Raine told him. "After this, I was thinking that Genis and I could go visit our mother."

Lloyd turned to her and smiled. "I think she would like that."

"You're welcome to come too. After all, you did say that you owe her your life."

Lloyd nodded. "Sure. I'll come with you two."

A triumphant hoot from the doorway drew their gazes upward. Zelos did a little victory dance as the Tower doors slowly opened, and he beckoned for them to all come inside. Lloyd walked up the stairs and into the quiet building, followed closely by Genis and Raine.

The Tower was much the same as it had always been. Lloyd tried to count the times he had been here, but then he realized that the Sylvaranti and the Tethe'allan versions of the Tower might not actually be the same place. And besides, he didn't have time to worry about the metaphysics of it all; he had more important things to do.

He followed Colette, who was clutching her bag to herself like she expected she might lose it. He wondered why she had brought it inside with her, but didn't have time to wonder very long before they reached the altar and Zelos jumped up onto it, helping Colette up after him.

"Now, Colette, I just need you to stand right there, about," he said, backing away. "Check this shit out."

"What shit?" Lloyd asked, not sure if he wanted to know.

Zelos only smiled and waved one arm, and with a flash of bright light, Lloyd realized they had company. Angels descended from the empty air, flanking Colette in a column of magic. She took a step backward, alarmed, but they didn't attack. Zelos only grinned and watched, leaning dispassionately against the altar's glass balustrade. A woman, armored and unfamiliar, appeared with a flash of blue light and landed beside him.

"Good work, Chosen," she told him, eyeing Colette.

"I do my best, Lady P," he answered, shrugging.

It didn't take long for it to dawn on Lloyd what Zelos had done. "Bastard," he growled, drawing his sword. "Who is this?"

"A friend of mine," Zelos said quietly. "And of Mithos."

"This,  _this_  is what you've been doing at night? This…" Lloyd couldn't finish. All Zelos' mysterious disappearances, the voices of unfamiliar guests, it all made sense to him now. Lloyd knew as well as anyone that Zelos led women on, but he didn't know he had a habit of doing the same to Desian women.

"Fantastic deduction, Lloyd." The Tethe'allan Chosen looked him in the eye and smiled with something that was not quite pleasure. "You're not as dumb as you look."

"Take her, and inform Mithos we have her," the woman commanded the angels surrounding Colette. Two of them grabbed her arms and drew her upward into the air. She flailed, reaching out to Lloyd. He saw her lips form his name before she disappeared.

"I trusted you, asshole!" Lloyd screamed, raising Flamberge, but Zelos seemed unaffected.

"We have no use for any of these worms," the woman said, surveying the party. "I suppose we should eliminate them."

"After you, Pronyma," Zelos said, bowing and waving her along. "I'll be right behind you."

She took a step forward, smiling, followed by Zelos and a few angelic guards. Lloyd grit his teeth and steeled himself, his eyes darting from her face, to the blank looks of her bodyguards, to Zelos' smug, satisfied grin. He grimaced, but vowed that he would fight them all off, even Zelos, if it came down to it. He wouldn't hesitate.

But he never had to go that far, never had to turn his sword against his former comrade, because what Zelos did next freed him from that responsibility.

Pronyma didn't notice Zelos draw his knife behind her. She never got a chance to react as he grabbed the back of her neck and drew the blade across her throat. In a spray of blood, she fell to her knees, gurgling red. She landed on her side, twitching helplessly, and reached out a trembling arm toward Zelos standing above her. As she drew in her last pathetic gasps for air, Zelos looked Lloyd in the eye and smiled before turning to face the two angels behind him.

But he had been too slow, too confident. The angels, quick to pick up on his sudden betrayal, bore down on him with their spears; he had no time to react. He couldn't even raise his blade in defense before one of them struck him through the stomach. He gasped and buckled over, dropping his weapon.

Lloyd, terribly confused and equally afraid, jumped up to help the man he was now not so sure was his ally. Sheena was beside him, cards raised, hollering a spell, and together they made short work of the angels. When the smoke cleared and their two assailants were dead, they turned back to Zelos. He lay in a heap, a pool of red blood expanding beneath him.

"You!" Lloyd shouted, kneeling beside him and forcing himself not to choke the remaining life out of the bastard. "What were you  _thinking_?"

"You bloody turncoat," Sheena said, taking his head in her lap. Lloyd didn't know if she was going to caress him or poke out his eyes.

"Ha." With Zelos' feeble laugh came a spurt of blood. "Every… gentleman knows… you need more than one coat."

"This is no time for your jokes," Raine said. She knelt beside him and covered his wound with her hands.

"Nah, Raine… let it alone," Zelos coughed. "You need to go find Colette."

"Where is she?" Lloyd asked, not sure if he would receive a true answer or not.

"She's… at the top… of… Mithos will heal her. He will… cure. But you… you need to find her… soon."

"Quiet, Zelos," Raine muttered. "I'm trying to fix you."

"Don't. You need… to go find Colette…"

"I can't concentrate with him babbling like that," Raine said.

Lloyd stood, staring at the portal into which Colette had disappeared. He glanced at the bodies of the angels around him, at the corpse of that woman.

" _Why_ , Zelos?" Lloyd asked him.

"Because…" he whispered. "She… helped me… find medicine for Colette. So Martel… for Martel. To be a vessel." Zelos threw his head back and hissed at the pain as Raine weaved him back together with her magic. Lloyd left Zelos and turned his attention to the altar.

"Where are you going?" Genis asked him as he stepped toward the portal.

"I'm going to find Colette," he answered.

"Well, wait for me, I'm coming with you," Genis said, scrambling up beside him.

"You go with them, Raine, they're going to need you," Sheena told her. "I'll stay here and make sure this idiot doesn't die."

"How will you do that?" Raine asked.

"I'll think of something," she answered. "If Zelos needs to get murdered, I'm going to be the one to do it. Not some dumb bitch and her nameless henchmen."

Raine sighed and stood. "Stay safe. He might pull through if you wrap him up. No promises, though." She turned and followed Genis and Lloyd toward the portal, wiping her bloodied hands on her jacket.

Lloyd got one last glimpse of Sheena bending attentively over Zelos as the portal sucked him up into the air. He turned his head skyward and emerged from the light, into the familiar glow of that strange holy city. He looked around, finding the place eerily devoid of activity.

"Well, where do we go now?" Genis asked.

Lloyd didn't know. He examined his surroundings, as lost as ever, but equally as determined. "Wherever Colette is," he answered, and Genis shook his head hopelessly.

"It's quiet here," Raine said. "Perhaps they did not expect us to come this way."

"Or it's the wrong way," Genis suggested.

Lloyd, unsure as always, chose a direction and went for it. He had no reason for picking one way over another, all he knew is that he needed to move, and fast. He needed to find Colette, get the Eternal Sword, kill Mithos and get the hell out of here, back to the ground, back to his father. Genis and Raine followed him closely, scouting for danger, but the city was as quiet as the Tower. Lloyd had a sinking feeling in his stomach, like they were walking through the bowels of a massive sleeping beast, and they could wake it up by making a single wrong move.

It turned out that his intuition wasn't far off. He led the siblings between two buildings to a tunnel beyond, not knowing where he was going, but knowing he had to get there fast. He didn't bother to make sure they were alongside him, he just pressed onward until a short yell stopped him in his tracks. He turned, and at the mouth of the tunnel, there they were, trapped behind a translucent wall of yellow light. Or, perhaps more appropriately, he was trapped and they were free.

He backtracked to the mouth of the tunnel and reached out to touch the screen. It gave him a mild shock, and he recoiled. "I'll find a way to open it for you guys," he said, turning back toward the other end of the tunnel.

"Lloyd," Raine said. He stopped and returned to them. "Don't wait for us. Just go find Colette. We'll regroup with Sheena and Zelos and try to find a way up."

"But—"

"You don't have much time," Raine hissed.

"Yeah," Genis said. "Don't wait around for us. We can take care of ourselves." He glanced upward when the distant peal of alarm bells echoed through the city. Lloyd knew that if they stayed here, on either side of this barrier, they would soon have company, and lots of it.

"And…" Genis started. "If we don't see you again, just know I kinda liked having you for a friend."

Lloyd laughed a little. "I kinda liked it too."

Raine smiled at him. "You, Lloyd, are the strangest student I've ever had. Barely literate, utterly unwilling to learn, obstinate… but remarkably resourceful. And tenacious. Good gods, Lloyd, don't die up there. I still have much to teach you."

"I won't," he said. The violent din of wind through wings echoed above them, and he knew they had run out of time.

"Goodbye, Lloyd," Raine said.

"See you on the other side," Genis added, before he took his sister's hand and they disappeared between two buildings of the strange city, fleeing the incoming horde. Lloyd couldn't afford to stand there and stare after them, so he turned tail and ran down the starlit glass tunnel, praying, hoping he knew where he was going.

The horde of angels didn't seem to be following him, so he slowed to a jog and looked around for some sort of hint, or at least a sign that he was going the right way. But everything was incomprehensible, completely foreign to him: the machines, the glass walls and the billions of dancing lights. It was like being trapped in an infinite hall of mirrors, and behind every one was the abyss of space. Still, he pressed onward, following the whims of his gut feelings.

He hadn't been wandering half an hour before something strange, some distant voice, echoed in his head. It seemed to be reaching for him, calling out for him, so he slowed and pricked up his ears, trying to identify it. For a hopeful second he thought it might be his father, but when the voice repeated his name, he knew that wasn't the case. It was young, a little hoarse, soft and calm. It was definitely far away, but it echoed through his mind like one of his own thoughts. Lloyd raised his hands to his temples, suddenly afraid that it would take him over and usurp his own will.

He couldn't get the voice out of his head, and it wouldn't stop whispering enticingly. He couldn't help but follow it, letting it lead him through the halls and chambers of this strange place. He knew who it was, and he didn't know what the voice's owner had in store for him, but he had to press onward. For Colette, for the world. For his father, and for himself. For the friends he had left behind, for all the people he had killed, for his own mistakes, and the mistakes of the four heroes of ancient times, who with the best intentions had condemned the world to a slow death.

He didn't know how he could make up for his own failures and the failures of those that came before him, he only knew that at this point, all he could do was try.

So, even though he knew he would be walking into a trap, he followed the voice.


	32. Martel

Colette stood in the freezing, shadowy chamber, hugging herself, head bowed. Yggdrasill hovered in a halo of light, and behind him, nestled in the machinery of the wall, reclined a radiant woman, surrounded by glass and light and energy. Yggdrasill stood between her and the woman, smiling with something that may have resembled kindness.

He reached out and touched her arm, and she felt warmth spread through her. The pain of her disease, the pain she had carried with her for months now, relented a little. Her shoulders fell, and she looked up at him. "You know," he said, eyes locked on her scaly, disease-marked face, "Martel had the same illness as you do. But I cured her. It's not a simple cure, but it does not take long." Yggdrasill draped an arm across her shoulder, warming her. "You were clever to bring your own medicine with you. Tied up with a big red bow, no less."

"Big red…" Colette started, and thought back to Zelos' clandestine gift. So, that's why he was acting so weird. She didn't know what to think, didn't know if Zelos had been responsible for all this, or why. She was numb, shocked, sick—she found herself unable to do anything but let Yggdrasill lead her across the room, cradling her shoulders almost lovingly.

"They're preparing your treatment now. Soon, very soon, you'll be well again." He stopped in front of the woman, sleeping peacefully in the petallike metal folds of the ancient machine. "Colette. Meet Martel."

Colette couldn't speak. She knew, within moments of seeing her, that this sleeping woman was Martel, but she was unsure if she wanted to believe it. Still, her eyes didn't lie to her. Right here, fragile and helpless in her sleep, was the goddess she had worshipped her entire life, the goddess that millions of people had followed and prayed to and adored. All this time, while the citizens of both worlds had been reaching up to her for help, she just lay here, in no fit state to answer prayers or guide the world or bless or condemn. She looked as powerless as any other human, lain in her strange metal casket.

Colette couldn't help but reach out a hand toward her, overwhelmed by the realization that this ancient woman, who looked so heavenly in her rest, was made of flesh and blood like the rest of them.

"Go on," Yggdrasill encouraged soothingly. "You can touch her."

Colette held her breath as her small, scaly hand trembled toward the cheek of the beautiful woman. When her fingers made contact, her energy left her, and she threw her head back as something else, something… different, burst through her veins and invaded her mind.

Yggdrasill, no… Mithos held her upright, gently cradling her, as her knees buckled and darkness swallowed her.

*

She was sitting before a fire, wrapped in a green cloak, watching the flames dance. She raised a hot mug of tea to her lips and reveled in its warmth. Beside her, cleaning his sword by the firelight, sat a familiar man. He hummed quietly to himself as he ran a cloth along his blade, watching it glint in the light. Somewhere above them, hovering over the quiet, natural sounds of the forest, she could hear raised voices echo between the trees.

She sighed and set down her tea. "Do you think I should go out there and stop them from killing each other?" she asked the man.

He smiled in return. "Oh, leave them. It's just a brotherly argument. They'll work it out."

"Mithos does get… easily riled up," she said. "You'd think those two could at least go out and get firewood without sparking a fight." She smiled. "Lately he's been onto Yuan. He's getting jealous. I think he suspects that Yuan is trying to steal me from him. That he's ruining all his plans."

The man looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Plans?"

"You know, Kratos. His plans for… us."

Kratos laughed. "Oh. Yes. Those plans. I know them quite well. Your little brother needs a lesson in subtlety. Always leaving us alone together on the most romantic of nights."

She looked up to the full moon and grinned.

"Martel," Kratos started, maybe a bit too seriously for her taste. "You know you're like a sister to me. Make no mistake, I do care about you. Deeply. But I already know you have your sights set on Yuan."

"Mithos says he's not going to give me away to that 'nebbish drip,' if I remember correctly."

Kratos chuckled heartily. "As if you're his to give away. Haven't you taught him that sisters aren't chattel?"

She sighed. "There is so much I haven't been able to teach him. It was hard for me to… as his sister, you know? I doted on him too much. He thinks I'm his mother, and he's desperately in need of a father."

Kratos set his sword aside and stared into the fire. "It can be so difficult, being a young man nowadays. When I was his age, I was already enlisted. It was that or have a hand cut off for thievery. I never had a father either. But you know how that is." He sighed. "All children of war grow up fatherless. You, me, Mithos, even Yuan, as far as I know. I haven't met one person who hasn't lost someone to this war."

Martel, suddenly cold, wrapped her cloak tighter around her.

"But…" Kratos started again, returning to the tender care of his sword. "If Mithos wants a father, I'll be the sternest one to ever discipline an unruly child. By the time I'm done with him, we'll never have to worry about him matchmaking behind our backs again. He'll be upfront and honest, obedient, respectful, and never, ever get out of hand."

Martel laughed at that. She wondered if that was what had caused it all, if her moment of derision had condemned the world, condemned her brother.

As if his only mission was to prove them wrong, Mithos did get out of hand. Martel watched it. Years, years, hundreds of years, she could do nothing, as Mithos went insane with doubt and grief. She watched him change, she watched him build a world that she could not accept. She watched Kratos change too, unable to stop it, unable to close her eyes, unable to die.

She lay there in agony as Mithos built his dystopia. She could do nothing as Kratos slowly closed like a shell, growing more and more silent with each passing decade. She observed his abundant smile disappear, fading over time, replaced by a permanent grimace. For hundreds of years, Martel watched him collapse inward on himself, in torturous slow motion, until the only words that ever came from his mouth were either a gruff mumble or a grave threat. She wished desperately she could give him back his smile, give him back hope, release him from his devotion to her insane brother, but she had no power here, fused with the Great Seed, not alive, but not quite dead either. Poor, silent Kratos, he had no words left when he finally abandoned them and descended to the world below, listless and adrift like a forsaken spirit. She never saw him again.

And Yuan. Kind, sensitive Yuan, so full of love and desperation, he was the worst off of the four. Even worse than Martel, lying here half-dead and in horrible, helpless pain. Martel knew he tagged along because of his agonizing self-doubt, and his misplaced allegiance to her memory. She wanted to reach out and touch him the most, to reassure him that everything would be fine, but she couldn't. She could only watch as he ran out of tears and hardened, twisting himself into an incorrigible schemer. It was the only way he could survive, surrounded by the insanity of Mithos' new world, and Martel never faulted him for it. But she wished, oh gods, she wished so much, for a world that would let Yuan soften, let him become the gentle person again that she knew he was. A world that would let him love again, since she knew as long as she was here, he would never love another.

When Yuan abandoned Mithos for good, he came to her first, bowing his head before her in her damnable half-sleep. She wondered if he knew she could hear him, if he knew she could see every horrible deed that they had done. He knelt on the floor as if he were trying to melt into it.

"Martel," he said, staring at his hands. Martel could see that he still wore the ring she had given him all those centuries ago, as a sign of her devotion. It pained her to see him cling to the memory so desperately. "I'm not here to ask for your permission. I'm here to ask for your forgiveness." He raised his head. "I've been playing this game for too long. It's time to end it. I'm going to kill Mithos. Because if I don't do it, there will be no one else." Martel had known about Yuan's apostasy and his duplicitous behavior for a years now, and she could not blame him for it. But she could not speak, could not tell him that it was right, that they all should've died thousands of years ago, that it would be the only way to undo the damage they had done. "This is the last time you will see me," Yuan said. "Until... I return and release you. I'm sorry. I'm going to kill you. You, Mithos, and Kratos. Forgive me." He bowed his head one more time. "I just wanted to tell you, before I go, that I love you. I always will."

With that, he rose, hard-faced and incredibly ancient, and left the room. That was the last time Martel had seen him. She had no other company after that, save occasionally her brother, but she did not want his company. She had seen too much of him—him and his countless victims, lined up one after the other, ready to receive her restless soul but all failing and dying on the spot.

Until this girl. This girl was her salvation, and by extension, her death. This sweet, loving innocent who suffered from the same disease that threatened to take her own life so many years ago. They were so similar, separated by thousands of years, but united by the same cruelty, the cruelty of Mithos Yggdrasill. And now they were one. Now, she was free.

*

The voice in Lloyd's head fell silent when he entered the dim room. He saw Yggdrasill, tall and elegant, standing with his back to him. And before him, attached to an apparatus that seemed half-machine, half-organic, lay Colette. Her skin was clear and radiant, her face was calm, she looked healthy, fully healed and new. The only problem was that Ygddrasill stood before her, watching her intently. Lloyd drew Flamberge, the blade ringing loudly in the silent chamber. "Get away from her," he warned.

Yggdrasill didn't bother turning around. "Quiet. You might want to watch this. I am about to resurrect the dead."

Lloyd stepped forward, gripping his sword, his two exspheres pulsating slightly. He looked at Colette, so secure and safe in that machine, and wondered if it would endanger her to pull her out of it.

Yggdrasill turned, and in a wave of wings and white fabric, he was the wide-eyed boy he had been so long ago. He looked weak, inconsequential, but Lloyd knew better. "You know, the world has taught me two things," he said in his child's voice. "One: that it is a cruel place, and two: that I have to be cruel to survive it." Lloyd gripped Flamberge's hilt so tightly his hand trembled. "But we don't have to be cruel. We don't have to watch people die. It doesn't have to be like that."

Lloyd looked at Colette's tranquil face and marveled at her healthy skin. He didn't have time to think about how Mithos had saved her—he couldn't forget why he was here.

"You killed Kratos, didn't you?" Mithos asked, not without grief.

"No." Lloyd hoped he wasn't lying.

"You did. I know you did. I've known him much longer than you have. I loved him much more than you do." Lloyd's chest emptied. Mithos didn't even have to throw a punch to wind him. "But it's no matter. Come look at this." Cautiously, Lloyd walked toward him.

Mithos seemed to be empty-handed, he had no scabbard at his side, no quiver, nothing. But he stood with the confidence of a fully armed man, and Lloyd knew better than to underestimate him. When Lloyd stood beside him, sword at the ready, Mithos didn't make a move to attack him. Inside the silent machine, Colette's eyelids flickered but didn't open, and Mithos smiled. "Do not worry about your father. I have just resurrected one soul, I can do it again."

For a transient, terrifying moment, Lloyd was taken in by the possibility. If Mithos could bring back a soul that had been dead for millennia, how hard could it be to bring one back that had been dead for mere decades? Mere hours? What if he could… Lloyd could finally be with his mother, after all these years. He could have a family, he could live a normal life, have two loving parents, he could get back what he had lost, right all his wrongs. His heart skipped a beat with anticipation of finally embracing them both, after he had searched and struggled for so many years.

He reached out a shaking hand, toward Colette, toward the miraculous machine, but Mithos grabbed his wrist. "I can give you back your life," he said. "I can stop death, stop disease, stop suffering." He forced Lloyd's arm away from Colette, but didn't hurt him. "I can do it. I can do anything."

For an instant, Lloyd believed him. He looked at Colette, at her hair, her face, now devoid of any ailment, pure and healthy, eyes still struggling to open. What if they really could stave off extinction, end suffering, bring the dead and dying back to life... His heart filled with hope as he watched Colette's eyes finally open, and her tired gaze met Lloyd's.

With a jolt he realized that those eyes were not hers. They were older, sadder, filled with such pain and regret he had to take a step back, retreating from their intensity. They seemed to be pleading with him, reaching out, asking him for mercy, for him to put them back into death where they belonged. Locked in that remorseful gaze, the painful realization of the necessity of mortality washed over him.

This was not Colette, this was a woman long dead, a woman whose body had been lost ages ago, but who had not been allowed to move on to her rightful peace. It wasn't right, it wasn't natural, it wasn't cathartic; resurrection could only repeat the cycle of death. If Martel lived again, it would only mean she would have to die again. This was no solution, no cure, this was only a temporary, palliative and misconceived way to postpone the inevitable. Abruptly, painfully, Lloyd decided on the essential thing that would separate him from Mithos: he would resolve to accept death, whereas Mithos could not.

Martel was dead, his mother was dead, and somewhere, deep inside him, he knew his father was too. But Colette was still alive. In that body, somewhere, she was waiting for him. He couldn't keep agonizing over the dead when the living needed him so badly. He lifted Flamberge, but the ancient hero wasn't going to be defeated so easily. As Lloyd hammered the blade down, it met another sword with a staggering clang.

Mithos' weapon was large, curved, a bright streak of amaranth and vermilion. In an uncannily beautiful arc, the blade rose to meet Flamberge. The two clashed with such force it threw Lloyd from his feet. He tumbled backward, still clinging his sword, arm still trembling from the impact. He barely had time to recover before Mithos was on him, swinging his massive blade down again. Lloyd dodged, parried, each stroke leaving him utterly exhausted. The power in that sword was uncanny, unlike anything Lloyd had ever felt before.

He knew he couldn't beat Mithos, not while he had that sword on his side. With a sickening jolt Lloyd realized that this weapon that was about to cut him in half must be the very weapon he needed, the very weapon that had split the worlds and would reunite them. This thing, with all of its supernatural strength, couldn't be anything but the Eternal Sword.

Flamberge held its own against the massive blade, and Lloyd lunged forward, hoping against hope that he could land a fatal blow, that he could finally end this and take Colette home, home to a world that was no longer dying. But Mithos was too fast, too confident, too powerful. And he had a bolstering luxury that Lloyd could not afford: certainty. He knew what he was doing was right, it was righteous, it was correct. And Lloyd, who had been crippled by his own doubt for so long, could not meet Mithos at that level, he could not engage with him, could not win.

Mithos, with a cruel smile and a blow faster than Lloyd could follow, knocked Flamberge from his hands. It twisted through the air in a streak of red, clanging to a halt on the other side of the chamber. Lloyd barely had time to move before Mithos thrust out at him once more. Lloyd twisted away from the blade, but its edge dug into his left shoulder, drawing blood and sending a wave of pain through him. He screamed and fell, trying to outmaneuver the sword tip, but Mithos was on him, delighted, driving him into the back wall. Lloyd collapsed against it, helpless, arm limp, as Mithos raised his sword to strike the final blow. Lloyd could barely throw his arms over his head and clench his teeth, waiting for the moment the blade cut through him.

"Mithos…" The voice was soft, gentle, and didn't belong to anyone Lloyd knew. He opened one eye to see his assailant turn, lowering the sword and taking a step toward the glowing machine, where Colette, weak-kneed and trembling, was struggling from its mouth. She could barely pull herself from the glowing apparatus, barely stand.

"Martel," Mithos cried, rushing to her. "Don't push yourself, you still need to rest. You need to get used to this body."

"Mithos… You have done wrong. You have betrayed me, Mithos. You cannot keep doing this."

"What?" he asked, reaching out a hand toward her. "I don't understand."

She took a moment to examine the silver ring on his finger, stained with blood. "So. You have killed Yuan, have you?"

"N-no," he answered.

"You have betrayed everything we stood for, everything we hoped for. You have abandoned the world, you have disappointed me."

"Martel, you're still a little hazy," Mithos said. He dropped his sword and tended to her, helping her stand.

"No, Mithos. I am fully awake, as I have been for all these long years. I know what you've done. I know all the crimes you have committed with the hope of resurrecting me."

"Is… is it this body? Do you not like it? I can get you a new one…"

With Mithos distracted, Lloyd slowly staggered to his feet. He clutched his shoulder, trying to keep the blood inside, and slowly, slowly made his way toward Flamberge.

"No. I'm going to leave you now, my brother. I'm going to go where I should've gone thousands of years ago, before you imprisoned me here."

"You're not really Martel, are you?" Mithos shouted, scrambling for his sword. "You're some sort of imposter!"

Colette's face darkened in pain. "No, Mithos. I am not. You… you are not the Mithos I knew. This world has changed you, this world of your own making. But I still love you, my brother. I love you more than anything." Colette reached out a hand to Mithos, who backed up, pointing his sword at her. "Goodbye. I will see you again soon, I hope."

"Wait, no, don't go!" Mithos sprang for her, but Colette fell to the floor before he could get to her. Martel's voice fell into silence, and her warm presence crept from the room, leaving only Colette's limp form on the ground.

Mithos hovered over the body, trembling. Lloyd reached down to pick up Flamberge and slowly raised the blade.

"You." Mithos turned, looking over his shoulder at Lloyd. His eyes were red, hardened with despair. "You did this."

Lloyd stood his ground, Flamberge in hand. Blood dripped from his shoulder onto the hilt, but he ignored it.

"You corrupted this Chosen somehow. You did this, you made Martel reject her."

"No, Mithos," Lloyd growled. "Martel chose her own path. And so did Colette."

Mithos staggered to his feet, sword in hand. He shook, breath coming and going in ragged sobs, as he took a step toward Lloyd. "I will end you," he whispered.

The ancient hero sprang toward him. Lloyd raised Flamberge just in time to redirect the Eternal Sword. The clang of blades rang in his ears, deafening him, and each flash of metal on metal sent sparks flying into his eyes. His shoulder ached, his muscles burned, but he held fast to his sword, raising it to meet Mithos' again and again. His exspheres woke once more, sending pulses of power through him.

"You did this," Mithos growled again, turning for another attack. His voice wavered, hoarse, and as he swung down on Lloyd once more, he had lost the confidence granted by his own certainty. His eyes were wide and fearful, glinting almost with madness, and his hands shook with some unnameable emotion. "You did this, it's  _your_  fault," he repeated.

Lloyd knew that the finishing blow had already been struck to Mithos, and it hadn't been by him. Martel's rejection had cut deeper than Flamberge ever could, but Lloyd could use that to his advantage. Each of Mithos' subsequent strikes became more powerful but less precise, more impassioned and less skillful. Lloyd slid back, Flamberge raised, as Mithos hurled attack after attack, sword nothing but a vermillion streak.

The hero fought with Kratos' style—they both did, since he had been their teacher—but when Mithos twisted and swung wide, putting every ounce of strength behind the blow, Lloyd saw the smallest of mistakes. Minuscule, subtle—it was a twist of the foot, it was a slight movement of the ankle, a tiny variation that would slip past any swordsman but Kratos. For a moment, Lloyd felt like his father, felt the keen frustration he must've felt when Lloyd made the very same mistake, the very same slight angle with his foot.

So Lloyd copied his father, lowering his center and sweeping out his leg, kicking Mithos off balance the same way Kratos had done so many times. Eyes wide, Mithos fell, rolled, and skillfully returned to his feet—but not before Lloyd could bear down on him.

With one quick swing of Flamberge, Lloyd caught the Eternal Sword by the hilt, twisting it out of Mithos' grip. The blade flipped, ringing through the air, and landed with a clang in the corner of the room. Lloyd, panting, pressed the tip of the sword to Mithos' throat.

To his surprise, the half-elf gave him a sardonic smile. "Go ahead," the ancient hero said. "Do it." Lloyd's arm trembled, and he told himself to just thrust it through the boy's neck and be done with it, but he couldn't. "If even Martel rejects me, then so be it. Death is all that's left to me." Lloyd could see tears well up in his eyes and a pained sneer appeared on his face. "Do it, you little bastard, before I change my mind and take you down with me." He raised his face to the ceiling, and gave Lloyd a clear view of his throat.

Of all the moments to hesitate, this could've been the worst, but Lloyd still found himself unable to move. His arm shook, his exspheres burned, and he lowered his sword. "No, Mithos. We can fix this world. You can keep on living."

"I don't think you understand." Mithos raised his empty arms, his smile making way for an expression of such savage desperation it almost hurt Lloyd to look at it. "Please," he said quietly. "My sister is waiting for me. Kratos is waiting for me." For a moment, Lloyd saw no malice in his eyes, only pain, only contrition. "Please."

Lloyd let out a cry and thrust forward, driving Flamberge through Mithos' heart. The blade slid easily between his ribs, tilting up and out the back, just like Kratos taught him. Instead of Origin's light, blood, regular, mortal blood, seeped from his wound and onto Lloyd's trembling hands.

Mithos gave way and fell forward onto Lloyd, his chin on his shoulder. It was almost an embrace, and Lloyd could hear the last whispers of breath leave Mithos' mouth, so close to his ear. He made no cry, no groan of pain when he died, he simply went limp. Lloyd, still trembling, lowered Mithos to the ground and removed Flamberge. He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth, releasing a constrained cry.

When he got a hold on himself, he rushed to Colette's side and lifted her head in his arms. He lowered his ear to her chest, and heard a fait, struggling heartbeat. Her breath came slow and shallow, but they came at all. "Colette," he whispered hoarsely, "wake up." A terrifying memory of his father's limp body in his arms drove him to tears. "Please, Colette," he cried. "Come back to me… come back."

He held her there, trying to coax her back to consciousness, for what seemed like forever. He kept calling her name, rocking her head, and right when he was about to lose hope, her eyes fluttered weakly open.

"Lloyd…" she whispered.

He cried out and drew her up into his arms, holding her fast.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He kissed her cheek. "I'm fine… are you?"

"I feel… I've felt better, but I think I'm all right." He helped her to her unsure feet, letting her lean on him as they stepped toward the Eternal Sword. Colette slowed when she saw Mithos' corpse, gripping Lloyd's arm and lowering her gaze. "Is that… is that him?"

"Yeah…" Lloyd said. He just squeezed her hand and led her around the body, trying to keep her eyes away from the hero's failure and fixed on their own success. When he knelt to retrieve the Eternal Sword, she knelt with him.

When Lloyd picked it up, he was struck with such power that he nearly dropped it again. But Colette's hand was there, right on his, and she smiled at him encouragingly. He looked at her clear skin, her healthful face, and had to grin.

He could not help but find it strange, amusing even, that he and Colette, the two that had been doomed from the start, were the last alive. They were the ones who were supposed to die, who had been planning for it, who had been wrestling with their own minds on how to cope with it. They were the ones whom the world had sentenced to death, and now here they were, the last ones standing.

He had to laugh out loud.

"What is it, Lloyd?" Colette asked, concerned.

"Nothing… it's nothing…" Lloyd smiled. "I just don't know how to use this damn thing, is all."

"Neither do I," Colette admitted. "But we need to try."

"How do you suppose it works?" Lloyd asked.

"Try making a wish," she said, "and see if Origin will grant it."

Lloyd raised the sword to the sky, Colette's hand in his, and energy flowed out through the sword and into their veins. Lloyd, suddenly granted all the power in the world, knew he only wanted one thing, so he opened his heart and begged the sky to give it to him. Blue light flowed around them, into them, out through the sword and back into them again, enveloping their forms and cracking the floor beneath them.

Lloyd was concentrating too hard to notice the ground give way beneath them, didn't notice the walls fall away and the very fabric of the universe bend around him, ripping and stitching itself back together. He didn't notice the wings spread from both of their backs, and didn't notice their descent back onto the world, the world that was slowly but surely reuniting. And he certainly didn't notice the Great Seed come feebly to life before him, roots finding ground and leaves finding air. His eyes were shut tight, his jaw clenched, his body given wholly to the power of the sword.


	33. The Tree

By the time the Tower of Salvation started to fall apart, Zelos was still clinging to life.  _That's just like him_ , Sheena could not help thinking,  _he'll even refuse to die, as long as he can be a nuisance to me._

Sheena pulled Zelos over her shoulder, and he groaned in his pained half-sleep. "Come on," she told him, stepping carefully along the glass walkway to the Tower's entrance. "We gotta get outta here, Zelos."

The crumbling of the Tower crescendoed into an unbearable flood of cracking stone and smashing glass. A large piece of a statue tumbled from above, crashing into the altar and shattering it. The whole room seemed to tip, and Sheena barely dragged Zelos out of the way of a falling pillar before it cracked the glass beneath them.

Sheena swore to herself, pulling Zelos across the catwalk. His feet dragged limply, leaving two streaks of blood on the glass. The walls rumbled around her, but she trudged onward. She slowly made her way toward the entrance, praying fervently, for herself, for Zelos, for Raine and Genis and Colette and Lloyd—dear gods, those last two were still up there.

She hesitated, only for a moment, slowing to lift her eyes to the endless greenish blue of the Tower's interior. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, the air itself seemed to rip apart with sparks of light, sending waves and tremors of dense air through the building—even her own body did not feel as if it were in one place.

She knew it was not the time to stand and linger in the doorway, with this place collapsing around her. She told herself to keep going, to just put one foot in front of the other, to keep her eyes locked on the rectangle of light that glowed at the end of the walkway…

"Sheena!"

She almost ached with relief to hear the voice. She turned, tugging Zelos closer to her, and saw Raine, bruised, bleeding, dragging an injured Genis behind her.

"Come on!" Sheena shouted, as if that would help them move faster. They made their way past the shattered altar, barely avoiding the clouds of dust and debris that tumbled after them. They jumped across the widening cracks in the floor, like creatures hurdling the Flanoir ice floes, stumbling and picking themselves back up and stumbling again.

"Come  _on!_ " Sheena shouted once more. They were close enough now that she could see the terrified looks on their faces, the cuts and bruises—she could make out Genis' discernible limp, and a streak of blood running down Raine's face. She almost dropped Zelos to reach out for them, almost turned around to help them across the last stretch of ground, when the air around them warped so drastically Sheena felt physically ill for a moment.

Suddenly everything twisted in her mind—up and down, left and right rotated, switched places, curled back on one another continuously, and she lost herself completely. She swore she could feel her feet leave the ground, swore her feet left her body altogether, swore that for a moment, a brief, terrifying moment, she had died.

Then something crashed into her, soft but powerful, and she was forced out of the Tower and back into reality. She tumbled into the grass—sweet, Tethe'allan grass—Zelos still clutched to her, and rolled to a stop. The world spun around her for a moment, the clouds blurred into the blue of sky, and she finally regained herself.

When she sat up, she saw Zelos beside her, limp but alive enough to let out a weak, whiny groan. The half-elf siblings had landed nearby, and the elder now helped the younger to his shaky feet.

"Are you guys okay?" Sheena asked.

"As 'okay' as one can be in this situation," Raine muttered.

Genis, staggering to his feet, let out a cry, almost making for the Tower's entrance once more, until his sister gripped the back of his collar and held him still. "Lloyd and Colette are still in there," he said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"And we can do nothing about that," Raine said sadly. She seemed unsteady on her feet, almost as if drunk. "We can't. There's something…" She reached a hand to her forehead and it came away red. "I… Why do I feel…"

"It's the mana," Genis sniffed. "I swear, it's doing something… something insane."

"You can feel it too?" Sheena asked.

Genis cried out, holding his ears as if trying to block out a horrible sound. "Wh-what's happening?" he sputtered.

Sheena raised her gaze to the sky as it bent and swirled above them. "Take a guess."

*

Lloyd didn't open his eyes until his toes touched firm ground, and even then, when he felt the soft dirt under his feet, he still wasn't sure if what his eyes told him was true. He stood in front of a pool, lit with a beautiful green glow, so still and welcoming in the windless day. Lloyd wasn't sure if it was really day, or night, or neither, since the sky around him was a soft hue of pink, enveloped in an opaque mist. The seemingly sourceless glow that danced around him, lighting the pool, lighting the trees and sky, was thick with an indescribable power. This, Lloyd realized, was the power of Origin. He was standing at the very threshold of a new planet; he was at the hub of an outspreading web of mana, witnessing with his own eyes the death of the old world and the birth of the new.

This strange place, with its overpowering saturation of mana, with its prevalence of Origin's energy, felt like it was beside the world, rather than in it. The air around Lloyd seemed new, electric, almost metaphysical, and as he glanced around him, he saw that bits and pieces of the earth floated in the mist. He wondered briefly if this was a dream, but his senses told him no, this was simply the beginning of something magnificent. He looked around, at the expanse of trees flickering like mirages in the supernatural light. He saw Colette standing a few feet behind him, wings shining. She too, seemed untouchable, like an illusion in the mist, so Lloyd didn't dare reach out to her, lest she disappear. She smiled at him and nodded, glowing lustrously in the light, as if reassuring him that everything was in order. She stood on the edge of the world he had known, waiting for him, and when he looked in her eyes, he saw a glint of eager expectation. She was waiting for him, waiting for him to do something. He again turned to survey his surroundings.

On the other side of the small pool sprouted a tiny sapling, thin and dark, and Lloyd knew that this was the new Kharlan Tree, the new mother of all the world's mana. But she herself was just a weakling at this point, her minuscule branches struggling to lift their leaves to the light. Lloyd marveled at the tree, the fragility of its birth, the potential housed inside it; this delicate, nascent thing was going to save the world.

Lloyd smiled, even though he felt no triumph, no overwhelming joy at his success. He felt only a dim sense of satisfaction, overarched by a greater sense of unease. But it was not only his own doubt that disquieted him, it was not the questionable morality of what he had done. He still had one obstacle left, bigger than Mithos, bigger than the world itself. He took a deep breath and glanced down at the Eternal Sword, which he still held firmly in his grip. Origin's power hovered all around him, but the spirit itself was still within him, awaiting his command. He took a slow step into the pool, and cold water filled his boot. He didn't mind; it was soothing, refreshing, so he took another step toward the tree. He planted the Eternal Sword in the mud beside him, calling upon Origin to do one last thing for him.

He sensed doubt in the air around him.  _Are you sure,_  it asked, and he nodded inwardly. He was sure. In fact, this was the first time in years he had been so certain of something. He took a step further into the water, reveling in its coolness, and reached a hand forward. Before him, floating in the spiritual mist, were a few droplets of dark blood. He extended a finger and gently touched one of them, and it bounced back into the air like a thick bubble, staining his fingertip red. He knew whose it was.

He turned his palms skyward and spread his arms, closing his eyes and steeling his heart. Submerged waist-deep in the cool water, he waited for that dreaded weight to gently push on him. His arms shook slightly, but he told himself that he was ready to face it, ready to carry the burden. At the call of his heart, the weight came, and his arms wrapped around something solid. He opened his eyes.

In his arms was the body of his father. It was strangely light, even when saturated with the gravity of death. Lloyd lifted Kratos' head and took a long look at his face, the face that he had at once adored and feared, hated and admired. Lloyd looked more closely than he had in his entire life, eyes running across the strong nose, the arching eyebrows, the pale, unmoving eyelids. It was a face that had endured the ravages of time and history and remained untouched, that had survived eons of war and hatred, but was unable to survive a son. Lloyd's heart sank, but he walked forward, deeper into the pool, toward the tiny tree growing on the bank of the opposite side. He stepped slowly through the cool water, letting it take some of the weight of his father's body. Kratos' limbs listlessly twisted eddies in the pool, and Lloyd was reminded of the time his father had taught him to swim. He wondered if he just let Kratos go, he would suddenly rise up from the water and lead him to shore.  _No_ , Lloyd told himself.  _Don't think of that._  Lloyd clutched his father closer to him and continued his slow wade forward, now up to his chest in the greenly lit water.

When he emerged from the pool on the opposite shore, water dripping from his burdened form, he lay Kratos gently at the base of the tiny sapling. He looked peaceful, comfortable, ready to sleep; the top of his head barely touched the tiny sprout, his hands lay upturned at his sides, and the mild ripples of the green pool licked at his feet. Lloyd knelt beside him in the soft dirt and ran a hand across his father's face, brushing aside a strand of wet hair to reveal his white eyelids, unmoving and lifeless. He bent down and kissed his father's forehead, wishing that he had done so more often when the man was still alive. He slowly pulled away and leaned back in the fertile soil, laying his right hand across his knee. With his left, he slowly removed the exsphere that he had come to think of as his mother, and placed it in Kratos' limp hand. Lloyd closed his father's pale fingers around it, praying that it would watch over him while he made his journey to whatever place lay beyond the strange and unsettling world of the living.

Lloyd then reached into his shirt, wrapping his fingers around the ever-present locket. He drew it from his clothes and opened it one last time, looking at the joyful faces of his parents, so proud, so full of kindness. Even Kratos, stern, humorless Kratos, beamed madly with his child in his arms. Lloyd found himself smiling slightly before snapping the portrait shut. He pulled it from his neck and gifted that to Kratos as well. He lay the locket on his father's unmoving chest and let his hand rest there for a while, perhaps waiting for that slow, slow heartbeat to thump against it one last time.

With the exsphere and locket in his possession, there was no way Kratos could lose his way on his solitary journey. Lloyd hoped that his gifts would guide him to a better place, a place where Anna waited for him, a place that, after all these years of nomadic homelessness, of running and hiding, they could call home. Lloyd knew his mother and father would wait for him there. He leaned in, chest pained, and when he opened his mouth, could barely hear the whisper.

"Thank you. For everything. For putting up with me, for caring for me, for..." he paused, eyes watering, "teaching me to swim. And to sew my own clothes. And to blow smoke rings..." A few tears dropped from his cheek onto Kratos' still chest, and Lloyd hung his head, trying not to lose himself in agonizing memories. "I'm sorry. I'm not going to see you for a long time. So when you find mom..." he could barely continue, "tell her... tell her I love her." He stared at his father's face for a long time, wondering if whatever was left of him could hear his feeble requests. When Lloyd lifted his eyes, he saw a white silhouette, long-haired, resplendent, and he thought that it was his mother, come to fetch Kratos for his first steps in his soul's migration, come to guide him into the peaceful reaches of oblivion.

"M… mother," Lloyd whispered, reaching out to the silvery ghost.

"No." The face that emerged from the glowing haze as not Anna's, but it was equally beautiful. It was long, pale, framed in hair the color of a meadow in summer. "I am the Tree's guardian spirit."

Lloyd hung his head again, a little disappointed that in this place between life and death his mother hadn't come to greet him. He stared downward, focusing on the locket that sat glinting on his father's chest, until the spirit reached out a kind hand and lifted his chin. "You have done well. In time, the world will be right again, thanks to you. Peace and balance may yet be restored, if you can provide this tree with the love and nourishment it needs to grow."

Lloyd clenched his jaw, trying to hold in his cries. He looked down at his father, at his limp form, and knew that he would be the first offering to the Great Tree. He wrapped his arms around his father one last time, squeezing him tight, not caring that Kratos couldn't return the favor. Lloyd's voice was muffled, buried in fabric, and his quiet tears made it shaky, but he was sure the spirit could hear his voice.

"Spirit of the Great Tree," he whispered. "Let his body nourish your soil. Let life grow… where he lies." Lloyd lifted his head and looked the woman in her kind, green eyes. "If… if it's you who judges the dead, please… don't judge him harshly." Lloyd began to sob outwardly. "I know he's done wrong. I know… he's done terrible things. But please… please give him peace."

The spirit touched Lloyd on his tortured brow with a slender white finger. She smiled kindly at him. "He shall have it."

Lloyd couldn't thank her. He only gripped his father's limp arm, reliving all those moments he had been afraid to let Kratos leave him. All those times he had told his father to not go, to stay, to alleviate the agony of his abandonment and his terror of being alone. But Lloyd was not alone anymore, and neither was Kratos. They both had their own things to do, their own paths to take.

Lloyd glanced at his father one last time, and his heart settled down. He reached out and gently touched Kratos on the chin. "Goodbye, dad." His lungs tensed a little when he forced himself to say it, for the first time in years, maybe for the first time in his entire life: "I love you."

And then he let go. He stood and turned, leaving his father's body in the care of the Tree and its spirit, confident that the locket and exsphere were enough to guide Kratos to peace. And maybe, many years later, Lloyd would follow him, with his own memories and treasures and convictions to guide him. But not yet.

When Lloyd stepped back into the pool and made his slow way over to the other side, his heart filled with something a little brighter than sorrow, but he didn't know what it was. The mysterious feeling guided him to the opposite shore, where Colette waited for him, reaching her hands out to him. Beyond the glittering water, he could see the world, the real, disastrous and confusing world. He saw a blue sky, green fields, figures of those who waited for him: Genis, Raine, Zelos and Sheena… bewildered but alive, with a hundred wounds and a thousand stories to tell. When Colette grabbed his arms and helped him out of the cool water, the overpowering thickness of Origin's presence dwindled. The unsettling mysticism of the air around him disappeared, and the world finally put the last stitches in its seams and pulled itself together. The pinkish mist cleared to reveal a perfect sky, and before him sprawled the reunited world, his world, newly born and waiting for him.

Colette reached out for his hand and took it in hers, brushing his red exsphere with her thumb. It sent strength through him, his own strength, tempered by suffering and joy and growth. It would lead him through this new world, this world that needed him. He stepped forward, a breeze rustling his hair, and he thought he heard his name echo in the wind.

_Keep on living._

He looked up into the bright sky, a shiver coursing its way through him.

_My son._

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he stopped. He turned, glancing behind him at the pool, at the tiny tree, but when he looked to where he had left his father, the body was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought maybe this crap needed a little bit of an explanation. For the curious and patiently indulgent.
> 
> This story was initially written in the span of about a month. Most of it was composed in the two weeks following the death of my best friend. I was wandering in a stupor for a while, keeping track of how many calories I had eaten since she died, how many minutes of television I watched, how many steps I took. It was insane. I was measuring how the garbage can filled, I was keeping track of what food was rotting at what pace. After only a few days, the nonsensical accounts of tiny events built up so much clutter in my head I thought it would kill me. So I decided to write. I went back through our old messages, trying to find a theme or motif from our childhoods. I didn't have to look long: the last message she sent me was a picture of her mail-ordered used copy of ToS with the caption "IT CAME!" She had never owned the game since I had leant her my copy. We were supposed to replay it together, since by that time the cancer had metastasized to her spine and she couldn't really move her thumbs. I would have to play it for her. But I never did.
> 
> So I thought maybe writing something about it would suffice as an apology. I knew she would find it silly and pleasing if I wrote a fanfiction. The fic didn't turn out quite as silly as it could have, since it was written in a pretty questionable state of mind, but still, it kept me afloat for the weeks following her death. I did nothing but write. I barely functioned, I neglected my classes, I didn't eat, I didn't sleep. I stared out the window a lot. I thought furiously. I spent hours alone, watching a word document slowly expand. At about 50,000 words in, I thought it would be kind of a waste to just delete the damn thing when I was done. So I thought I might as well post it somewhere. I wanted finish it and release it into the wild before it totally ate me alive. I wanted to get over it and let it go.
> 
> I still find it embarrassingly funny that my method of coping takes form of fanfiction. No one knows I wrote this, and I would never live it down if they knew. But I kind of wanted to tell someone about how it came to be. So here this is. Thanks for reading it—I really do appreciate it.
> 
> About two years have passed since originally writing it, and I've tried to clean up this mess as best I could. It's still… uh… very, very flawed, but I tried to preserve the spirit of the piece while polishing and tempering its more difficult bits. There are so many things I still find wrong with it, but I don't think that shaving it any more will do it good. I think it just needs to live as it is. Be who it is. Rock its flaws.


End file.
